Between the Shadows
by DragonDancer5150
Summary: Ritual summoned into an apocalyptic future, Yami must regather his friends and the Millennium Items, and attempt once again to regain his memories – before his inhuman master can regain control of him! Expansion of 'Enthralled.'
1. Chapter 1 Enthralled

Author's Note: This is an expansion of my one-shot, "Enthralled." Even if/though you have read the one-shot, please read all of this chapter, including the parts that overlap. There are numerous changes in important details.

THANK YOU SO, SOOO MUCH to PharaonicWolf and MyAibou, my beta's. MA's work, especially, has been insightful, to an extent that I've spent a lot of time reworking this whole thing. Chapters are shorter, which also means there's more /of/ them before getting back to new material, so reviews dated before September 10, 2007 are "off" in the chapters referenced. Chapter 1 is still Chapter 1. What /was/ Chp 2 is now Chp's 2 & 3. Chp 3 is Chp's 4, 5, & 6. Current chapter 7 is new. Original Chp 4 is now Chp's 8, 9 & 10. Chp 11 starts all new material as well. There are also many reworked sections/extensively/ in some cases, plus a whole /new/ chapter in the middle (again, Chp 7), so be sure to look everything back over, those of you who are not new to the story. And THANKS SO MUCH to all who are reading!

Full Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. "Rifts: Role-Playing Game," "Nightspawn/Nightbane: Role-Playing Game," and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Palladium Books Publishing and related entities. Most (not all) of the named non-YGO characters are mine, while the rest of the named entities, all races, countries, weapons, equipment, and locales (except Hell Hole) are from Rifts RPG sourcebooks. No, I'm not that creative. LOL I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters. ((PS – Screw Todd What's-His-Name, I /LIKE/ the name "Nightspawn" and will never mistake a correspondence to his creation. If you don't know what I'm talking about, don't worry about it. Heh.))

"Between the Shadows"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 1 – Enthralled

Yami trudged across the broken street, walking through massive debris littering the concrete around his ragged boots. It was not that he stepped over or around anything, but through it quite literally. As a ghost, a pure energy being, such material things did not hamper him. He had even discovered – how long ago he could not recall just then – that he did not have to locomote with his feet at ground level, that he could sink into the ground or even float above it, though he could not get higher than a dozen meters without a surface upon which to anchor his energies, such as the side of a building. Not that he would, though even he admitted that acrophobia was an odd concern for one who could not be killed.

He turned to let his eyes slide up the face of the building from which he had just descended. It had no windows left in it. He was amazed it still stood, that it had not collapsed in on itself. Pure age had not yet toppled this monument to the bygone civilization that had built this city, nor had the gunfire of the fight that had just ended. He let his eyes fall back down to the armored personnel carrier parked outside of what once had been the ancient hotel's lobby as the soldiers loaded up the oversized cargo crate. Overall, the mission had been a success: the retrieval of a drop-off from contacts in the Federation of Magic. However, a couple of Coalition Dog Boys had sniffed them out when they should have passed through undetected – that had been Yami's job. The pack of mutant canines had been greater in numbers than he could feasibly throw off the men's trail, and one had escaped to inform her superiors. Donovan had been shot by a Dog Boy that looked like he had been contrived from a bull terrier, and none of the others could get to him to snatch up his Talisman of Tongues until the fight was over. By then, Yami had failed to successfully warn the men of several more Coalition soldiers bearing down on them. It was not his fault that he did not speak American – the old term for the language was "English" – none of them spoke Japanese, and that he had to expend a little extra energy for them to be able to hear him at all. The opposing company was successfully eliminated, between the team's gunfire and his own Shadow-borne efforts, but there was no way to know if any of them had managed to relay any further intelligence to their commanders. Yami sighed, having no doubt that the blame for the complications of this mission would fall upon his thin shoulders. He tugged self-consciously at the threadbare hem of his t-shirt.

One of the mercenaries, a brawny werewolf-looking non-Terran by the name of Bleidd, barked an order. The subordinate who had salvaged the amulet from Donovan threw it to the commander, and Yami watched him place it around his neck and invoke the spell built into its material. "You, come here," he commanded in what came out as Japanese.

Yami scowled. "I'm returning to Anghrist. My time is running short."

The Wolven growled low in his throat. "I _said_ get your scrawny human-ghost ass over here now. I don't feel like shouting."

It was interesting to watch how the sounds that issued forth from the mouth did not match the shapes formed by the lips. The Tongues spell really only affected the bearer, changing the sounds hitting his ears to words he would understand, as well as his own words to sounds intelligible to the one listening to him.

_I can hear your echoing, bullhorn voice just fine_, Yami thought in annoyance. He considered telling the beast as much, but he had little doubt that word of his disobedience would get back to Anghrist and . . . He shuddered in spite of himself, then snarled silently and trotted to the Wolven's side.

The seven-foot alien smirked down at his decoy and recon scout. "Good boy. I'd offer you a bone but . . . " He shrugged. Anghrist had not seen fit to give Yami the ability to be solid for this mission, depriving him of the ability to affect or handle anything physical. Commander Bleidd shook his head, getting back to business. "I'll ignore the fact that you . . . 'forgot' his title again, since it'll be a moot point before I talk to him again myself. Anyway, because of the alert that CS mongrel bitch managed to report, I'm taking a different route to the rendezvous point. Tell Lord Anghrist we will be a few hours behind schedule to make sure we throw off any further tailing. I'd radio him myself, but that Dee-Bee never repaired the encryption programs on the damned vehicle from the last mission, and I don't need CS picking up a comm."

"Yes, I will tell him." _If the bastard gives me the chance . . ._

He saw Bleidd study him a moment longer, probably noting his greater-than-normal transparency. "Get out of here before your pattern collapses. Lord Anghrist said he was gonna want you active again sometime this afternoon, so no holing up in that pretty prison of yours."

Yami ignored the insult to grasp at the hint of new intel. "He's going to need me again so soon?"

Bleidd shrugged a second time. "You now know's much as I do. So, git!" He aimed a kick at his subordinate's backside. To neither one's surprise, the clawed foot passed right through the incorporeal body.

Yami grimaced at the further reminder of his situation before managing a salute, then turned to bolt back for the base. He had a mere hour to make it before his energy pattern fell apart altogether from overexertion, and he was whiplashed into his soul room, restricted for a full twenty-four hours while his taxed energies recovered. To say the least, Anghrist would . . . be displeased if that were to occur.

Not being physical, many of the constraints in his movement rate did not bind Yami now as they must have in life. He could run faster than a living human, and he was not restricted to unobstructed roads, able simply to pass right through any buildings in his path. "As the crow flies" was a feasible route for the human spirit.

_That Dee-Bee . . . _that_ Dee-Bee . . . _

Tears stung his eyes, blurring his vision as he raced through the blasted skeleton of a former metropolis, deftly avoiding contact with most of its denizens. _DAMN__ you, Bleidd! "That Dee-Bee" was my _friend! Donovan was one of the few people in Anghrist's company whom Yami truly had come to trust, defying the fact that his unknown origins gave him a lesser status than anyone else "in his right mind" would afford the alien. While it seemed to Yami that one had to come from a _known_ source – such as a planet in the far-away Three Galaxies like the Wolfen did – in order not to be lumped into the trash-slang "Dee-Bee," Yami himself had never paid a second thought to Donovan's blue skin and crystalline eyes, his foreign birth on some planet otherwise unknown to anyone or anything on this accursed Earth, a being initially displaced by a random, dimension-crossing ley line storm. In reality, Yami had learned that "Dee-Bee" was the slang for _any_ "dimensional being," any non-Terran not particularly supernatural in nature, such as a dragon or any number of other monstrosities Yami had come across in his recent adventures, ever since being pulled here with –

More tears clouded his vision as he shook it from his mind – the brief, vivid image of a young man with full, tri-colored hair like his own and brilliant amethyst eyes that had always shone with such incredible life. Eyes that now –

_Stop it!_ he snarled at himself. _That will not accomplish anything, not at the moment at any rate. Just . . . get back to Anghrist_. Reluctantly, he redoubled his efforts.

Before long, Yami had crossed a respectable portion of what had once been the American city of St. Louis, now generally referred to as Demon's Gate – and rightly so, its signature structure being the source portal site of most of the diabolic forces that reigned throughout the majority of the city. Gargoyles, a smattering of darker-hearted dragons, and a host of various demonic races whose names he did not know had driven out all but the hardiest or the most foolhardy of humans generations ago. Yami had long become practiced in dodging their attention if he were careful enough in his passing, as most individuals were much less adept at sensing and hunting Astral prey than they were physically-living ones.

Though he had laid eyes on it hundreds of times now, Yami paused at the sight visible in the distance between ruined skyscrapers: a immense permanent rift in space and across dimensions within the bordering structure of what they told him was originally called the St. Louis Arch. Magical activity was stronger there than in any other parts of this entire region, as three ley lines intersected to form a powerful nexus point in the very spot the Americans of centuries ago had built their mathematical monument. He murmured in awe, the sight never failing to amaze him, as he studied the towering walls of crackling, blue-white energy dominating the landscape, the mighty ley lines whose sudden, violent appearance had redefined reality some centuries ago. He wondered if the architects and original planners who chose the site of the arch had any clue of the mystical energies all but dormant back in those days, or that their celebration of whatever it was they had meant to commemorate would one day be a gateway to Hell, figuratively or otherwise. With a sigh, he shook his head and continued on, before any of the fell forces that dwelled in the vicinity caught a mystical whiff of him.

Yami finally slowed as he rounded the corner from a back alley onto yet another shabby side street, eyes locating his goal. The casual passer-by – and there were surprisingly many who eked out a living in this gods-forsaken ruin – would likely dismiss the storefront as nothing more than another abandoned relic of past prosperity. Yami knew better. He caught the eye of a seeming bum – _Hn. Ruiz is on duty, now, is he? Thought he was up in Chi-Town_. – and was allowed to approach without hindrance. Inside the building, he passed a few more men and women who recognized him, finally reaching an armored door in the back. He could not actually touch the security plate on the wall, but passing his hand through it activated the mystical portion of its circuitry in response to his energies. He then hovered his palm over the scanner. A field of magic crackled out from the depths of the techno-wizard device, zapping him as it sampled his energy pattern for recognition, and he managed to keep from jerking back initially at the shock. He massaged one hand in the other, rubbing out the pain, as the door made several heavy clicking noises and slid aside with a low groan to reveal the teleportation chamber within. He still did not fully understand how such things worked, but the transport chamber's shielding against intangible and Astral beings was not really so uncommon, at least not with anything concerning Anghrist's company. Yami could not simply pass through its walls, ceiling or floor as he had so many other structures to get here. And yet, it held within it the means to send his energy pattern across the great distance he needed to go before his time ran out.

A roughly humanoid robot, with three sets of arms too many, rolled on treadbelts to greet him as he stepped in, the thick door closing behind him with a _schunck_. A blue scanning laser emitted from one of several "eyes" in what passed for its face, sweeping Yami from head to toe. When it did not register what had just passed through its door, it switched to a green laser, scanning for energy signatures rather than physical material. "//_Yami Mutou_,//" it intoned by way of recognition, then asked a question. He did not know the language, but he had done this enough times to know what information it had requested.

Mutou. Hearing that always made him pause with a pang of hurt. It was not truly his surname, but one he carried in homage of another. _One day_, he growled silently for the umpteenth time. _I _swear_ it on my honor . . . _He sighed. _If I have any truly left_ . . .

"//_Hell Hole_.//" He had the American name for Anghrist's base memorized, even if the sounds felt more like he was simply sighing breathy nonsense. There had once been a time, about two years in length, when he could have learned at least some of this land's language, but he had never been active during those lessons. Now, the one whose classes he had not directly attended . . . could no longer teach him.

_Not true_, Yami snarled, even as grief pierced him. _It's _not_ like he's dead, just _. . . His fists clenched as he waited for the robot to complete the sequence code.

Hell Hole was an underground complex deep below Lake Michigan, built by Anghrist himself. This techno-magical transport chamber was one of the few ways in or out, as it was firmly sealed from intrusion, both physical and immaterial. It was a military stronghold, a tactical center, an absolutely secure retreat and, Yami thought with a stab of frustrated grief, it was home these days, had been for decades now. There were three very important treasures Anghrist kept locked away down there, treasures that, if only Yami could _touch_ them, he would steal away from that terrible place in a heartbeat . . . but he could not. In more than forty years, he had been unable to liberate himself and the treasures. It was not that he had not tried. Quite the contrary, he had come up with more than a few plans over the years, even attempted to implement a handful . . . all without success. He had paid dearly for each effort. A violent shudder wracked his slim frame at the memories, and he crossed his arms over his chest to force down the trembling, disgusted at himself for his fear.

A magical field of dark mist spun into existence between poles on one side of the room, and the robot intoned the instruction in its programmed language that the portal was ready for entry. Yami drew a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, attempting to relax and regain his composure, then strode through the mystical film of swirling energies.

He appeared in an identical chamber, and an identical robot had already sent an electronic command to the door, unlocking and opening it for him to exit. He stepped out into a hallway, making his way unerringly through the sprawling complex, passing guards, mercenaries, thieves, spies and worse. His shoulders hunched, fists burying into his pockets. It rankled him to no end to have to associate with such abhorrent men and women, but his . . . "master" – even mentally, he all but spat the word – gave him no choice. Now within the perimeter, he could just float through the walls, but why rush to the inevitable? On the other end of the spectrum, he did not have to be visible to everyone around him, even in this magic-rich environment, but again . . . why bother? They knew he was there, too many able to sense him easily enough even without the boost of the ambient, mystical energies so common throughout the world in this day and age. Most of them could not touch him any more than he could affect them, at least not by any physical means. Of course, he had learned long ago that there were means other than physical by which one could be "affected." He shuddered again in spite of a sense of disgrace at allowing that he should be so shaken, hating this place, these people . . . himself.

With over ten minutes still to spare, Yami reached Anghrist's study, deep in the heart of the complex. He wondered idly – not for the first time and if only to keep his mind just a moment longer from what was coming – if his own ancient chambers had once been so decadently ornate. Anghrist was practically a pharaoh in his own right, after a fashion – the leader of one of the most powerful and influential mercenary companies on the North American continent. Only the Coalition States, the New German Republic, the Federation of Magic, and Atlantis itself could boast equal or greater militant forces. Hell Hole was his prized location but by far not his only base, having no fewer than a dozen satellite complexes and a hundred lesser camps across the continents. Over the years, Yami had been to most of them, as an enthralled vassal in Anghrist's vaunted entourage.

Only the single door into the chamber broke the layer of bookshelves lining the walls all around the room, ceiling-high and filled with scrolls, small chests and other oddities, and a wide assortment of books, a priceless commodity in this post-Apocalyptic world where knowledge granted one just as much power as the renewed levels of magic abundant in the atmosphere. The subjects ranged from histories, sciences and military tactics, to spellbooks and other tomes of the arcane, every major language of the world represented, and several not native to the planet. Anghrist was a psychic and sorcerer of rare power, who was whispered to have ties with some of the darkest forces of nature and the supernatural in existence. Though he had witnessed many things, Yami did not know how much was truth and how much hyperbolic rumor, but there was one thing he did know: somehow, Anghrist held in his possession knowledge he should never have been able to acquire, knowledge that bound Yami to him by shackles stronger than even the once-renown King of Games could break.

Anghrist knew the ancient spirit's true name.

A low clearing of the throat jolted Yami out of his reverie, and he failed to suppress a wince of alarm before forcing his feet to carry him into the room. A great oaken desk dominated the chamber, the front and side panels richly carved with artful but terrible scenes that might have come straight from Dante's _Inferno_, the feet monstrous claws half-buried in the luxurious carpet. On a forward corner stood a small, elegant stand of wrought iron enfolding one of Yami's three treasures: the Millennium Puzzle. A shallow bowl topped the structure, containing liquid mercury of a mystical, even Astral, quality that radiated a living aura to those who could sense such things. Beside this stood an ornate silver dish with a large hematite stone next to a small, footed steel chest – just the right size for a deck of cards. Behind the desk, poring over who-knew-what tome of knowledge, sat Anghrist himself. The man might easily be taken for an attractive, tall, middle-aged human with full beard and mustache peppered red-and-silver, with piercing blue-green eyes in a sun-bronzed face – might, except that he had not visibly aged in the four-plus decades since Yami had first laid eyes on him. Anghrist did not look up right away nor did he say a word, _would_ not until the spirit had properly positioned himself.

It had become almost ritual over time, Yami stepping to take his place at the center of the room before the great oaken desk. He paused a moment, fists clenched in humiliated anger, before he dropped to his knees, sitting on his heels as he bent forward onto his hands, head bowed deeply in submission. "Master" – He bit the word in disgust, intoning the prescribed greeting only because the alternative was more terrible than even his great pride and honor warranted. – "your . . . _slave_ has returned." He kept his eyes trained on the floor, watching the other by periphery vision. He knew better than to look up.

"My slave has failed," Anghrist corrected, his tone low with his own annoyance.

It was useless to argue and, in truth, he knew it. Still, he could not bring himself not to try. "Sir, the Dog Boys were too many and too widely spread. I cannot be in multiple places at once. The fact that one slipped by could hardly be helped."

He flinched back as a small round mirror dropped onto the carpet within his sight, and Anghrist murmured a word in the language of spellcraft. The reflection wavered and swam across the surface, darkening, reforming to view a small chamber elsewhere within the complex, dimly lit to reveal a single, small figure seated in docile silence on a low bench against the back wall, the room's only furnishing.

Yami tensed in frustrated helplessness, fingers curling into the plush carpet without even the satisfaction of being able physically to grip the deep fibers. _Do what you will to me. Just leave him alone!_ He dared not speak his thoughts aloud. He knew how to play this game, and the most important rule in effect in that moment was that one did not give his opponent any satisfaction with pleas or demands, as that only told the enemy how best to exert control. He braced, unable to deny the growing tremor that shuddered through his frame, knowing what was to come, dreading it in spite of himself.

Anghrist stood and stepped around to the front of his desk, brushing the mirror aside with a booted foot, cutting off his slave from the comfort of being able to see that his companion was safe – for now. "Prepare yourself." It was the only warning he ever gave.

Yami was prepared, had been since the first warning howl of the Dog Boys, since he realized that he would fail. He suppressed a whimper of miserable anticipation.

Power slammed into Yami, crackling through his energy pattern as though threatening to tear it permanently asunder. Shrieking, he collapsed into a fetal position, writhing at his master's feet. He wished in vain that he could pass out from the agony, surrender into oblivion for a time, even as he knew that such luxuries were reserved for the living. He had no material nervous system to overload, no means to escape the punishing torture visited upon his psyche and his mystical existence. His only saving grace was that Anghrist would have to release the attack before his time was up and let him withdraw into the Puzzle to recover before he was trapped in there the full twenty-four hours. Until then, only one small, distant bit of knowledge helped to fortify his innermost sense of honor and satisfaction – by suffering himself, he knew that his _aibou_ had been spared one more time.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!

_**Aibou**_ – "Partner" or "Pal." Yami's nickname for Yugi, born both of fondness and respect (per canon).


	2. Chapter 2 Purn'kln

Shorter Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. "Rifts: Role-Playing Game," "Nightspawn/Nightbane: Role-Playing Game," and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Palladium Books Publishing and related entities. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Between the Shadows"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 2 – Pur-n'kln

_"What in the – ?!"_

"_Aibou, look out!!"_

_"YAMI!!"_

_"Dark Magician! . . . no, wait . . . Yugi?!!?"_

_"Black Magic Attack!!"_

_"Foolish little . . . "_

_"No, Aibou! _YUGI_!!!"_

Yami returned to consciousness with a shock, pulling his energies back into a cohesive form at the epicenter of his vast soul room within the Millennium Puzzle, shaking with reaction to the nightmare, the memory that was four decades old. No matter how many times he unwillingly relived that day, repetition did not dull the grief. He wiped intangible tears from his spectral face as he pushed to his feet from the cold stone floor, only then realizing the reason for his awakening. A summons pounded dully at the back of his mind, and he paused to assess the passage of time since his withdrawal. _Damn him. It's not even been four hours!_ He still ached terribly from his punishment. Then, he recalled Commander Bleidd's words back at the pick-up point, and he released a heavy sigh, muttering, "Yes, _yes!_ . . . I'm coming . . . "

He exited the soul room into an astral hallway, trying unsuccessfully to ignore its orientation. Rather than find himself in a corridor that stretched away to either side of him as once it had, he paused in the frame of a door that now closed off one end, the passage disappearing straight ahead of him an immeasurable distance into shadowy oblivion. His was also the _only_ door in the hallway, the venous, tetris-style brickwork unbroken as it stretched away. _Aibou_ . . . He flowed through the blackness of the immaterial corridor into the brightness of Anghrist's study.

"_Ga-ah!_" He stumbled back as he materialized in his usual spot, finding himself half-immerged into the body of a nine-foot-monstrosity, even as his mind registered yet again that he was apparitional and therefore, technically, could occupy the same space as a physical, living being. He still thought like a living human himself, the primary reason for the retention of his intellect that kept him from becoming a "common haunt."

The beast stood fully twice his height, and he had to crane his neck to look it in the eye, recognizing it for what it was – a Conservator, a member of one of the "Minion" races of the Splugorth of Atlantis, a great predatory horror with two pairs of arms, a tail with a cruel stinger, and a dark mottled body covered in a horny armor like a cross between a rhinoceros's hide and the chitin of an insect. A third eye peered down at him from the middle of its forehead along with the natural set, and he had learned to respect that surgical addition to the monster's appearance and capabilities. There were, in fact, three such monsters in the room along with a being that looked like they must have, once, before the additions of a tail, extra limbs, armor, Eye of Eylor and several other, more subtle enhancements – a so-called "High Lord." Finally, his eyes found the last member of the visiting party, and he caught his breath with a hiss of dismay and empathy for the much-smaller beast.

On the floor at his feet crouched a were-creature of some kind, a felinoid with deep blue-black fur, great black leather wings and dark horns like a young great-horned ram that curled back and under around its cat ears. It wore an iron collar that looked like it was far too tight, with wrist shackles of a matching design and discomfort visible above its clawed hands which were pressed to the floor below its bowed head. However, it was none of these aspects of its appearance that elicited Yami's shock of horror, but the multitude of fresh whiplashes that lacerated the creature's wings and tore open its fur-coated back in deep, bloody furrows. _Ancient gods_, he murmured silently, wondering if this were a thief that had been caught in the complex. _Is this the reason Anghrist summoned me? But how could it have even gotten here?_

"Solidify yourself and put that on." Leaning on the front of his desk with his arms folded, Anghrist indicated a Talisman of Tongues that hung on the otherwise empty iron stand, the shallow dish at the apex untouched.

_Aibou?!_ Yami resisted the urge to turn too quickly. Concentrating his energies, he willed himself into a material state, then took the amulet from its hook, slipping the chain over his head and activating the spell with a thought and a pittance of magical energy. Only then, as though merely affording the newcomers the grace of his attention, did Yami shift to take in the rest of the room, expression carefully devoid of his inner anxiety as his eyes found a silent figure standing in the corner behind the Conservators, looking terribly small and frail by comparison, the Millennium Puzzle around his neck where it belonged. It was Yugi, or the physical aspect of his existence at any rate – his soul had been separated from his body long ago, leaving his corporeal half little more than a mindless, nearly catatonic shell. Yami had ever seen such a thing only once before, though it had been achieved by different means. Well, technically twice . . . done separately but at basically the same time . . . in a pair of human brothers . . . forever ago now . . .

The High Lord paused a beat to allow the Tongues spell to take effect, favoring the human spirit with a condescending smirk. "So, this is your new toy, eh, Lord Anghrist?" Yami had learned that "new" was a relative term when one lived for hundreds, even thousands, of years.

Anghrist nodded. "And this is the one I was promised, Lord T'Ryllokh?"

It was hard to tell if a creature "smiled" when it had no lips to begin with, the mouth a double-row of sharp fangs that fit together like a nightmarish zipper. "He is," Lord T'Ryllokh growled in that inhuman voice typical of his monstrous race. Large, solid brown eyes sparkled in wicked satisfaction from the bald, mottled head. "I think you will be quite pleased with him. Lord Splynncryth himself is loathe to part with him for any length of time, so the fact that he is willing to lease him to you is a great honor."

Yami listened carefully for the real sounds audible behind the effects of the spell upon his hearing. Though he did not know the language, he thought he recognized the pattern and tone of harsh utterances. They were speaking Dragonese, if he were not mistaken. That was no surprise, as Dragonese was the most common language to hear on Atlantis. Yami had been there dozens of times now, and cared for it less with each visit.

"What is his name?" Anghrist wanted to know.

"//_Pur-n'kln_.// It's Demongogian."

The word was one Yami had never heard before, the sound itself a cross between a purr and a growl with a strange clicking sound interrupting the middle. He wondered if the word did not convert with the spell because it was spoken as a proper name . . .

Anghrist nodded, a faint smile tugging at his bearded lips. He glanced at Yami. "That translates as 'little thief,' an apt designation if half of what I've heard is true." To the were-creature, he commanded, "Stand up. Look at me."

The creature obeyed without hesitation. On its hind legs, it stood a little taller than Yami, who now noted that cuffs encircled what passed as ankles on its bestial, back-turned legs as well. Oddly enough, no chain connected either set of manacles, and Yami wondered if they served a mystical rather than physical purpose. He found himself speculating what the creature was, painfully reminded of some of the imaginative artwork he had seen on the collectible cards of a bygone era, but this was no game-based hologram. He studied the creature as it stood gazing up at Anghrist in complete obeisance and noted that its movements were fluid and its stance steady in spite of what pain it must be suffering, the fear in its bright, emerald cat-eyes surprisingly restrained.

Anghrist, too, studied the acquiescent little beast, then nodded and turned with a crooked grin to his own slave. His words rocked the spirit back on his heels with shock. "Well, then . . . meet your new partner, Yami Mutou."

Yami frowned with a meaningful glance at the small body in the far corner and folded his arms in displeasure. It would cost him – he knew that – but he felt too strongly to let this go without _some_ comment. It was a topic they had discussed on more than one occasion. "I don't need one, _sir_. Besides, I have a partner." He could have tried to parry or dodge, but he had already overstepped his limits with that simple statement. Instead, he shifted, turning with the blow in an attempt to lessen the impact.

Anghrist backhanded his insolent thrall with a strength that was impossible for a human of even his powerful build, sending Yami reeling hard into a bookcase, and the materialized spirit slumped to the floor, knocked half out of his senses. Had he been a living human, he little doubted that the blow could have broken his neck. He recovered and sat up, scowling in spite of himself and braced against further retaliation. A low and angry voice hammered into his mind as Anghrist stood glaring, one hand going to the hematite stone on the dish in front of the Puzzle's stand. --_I will _NOT_ suffer you to dishonor me in front of guests! This will be addressed later at my convenience. Be assured of that._--

His master's hand on that particular stone had Yami gulping with a shock of panic before he could catch the reflex, shifting to hands and knees with his head down before he could do more damage. --_Y-yes . . . Master Anghrist. M-my apologies_.--

The High Lord watched the exchange of meaningful looks and gestures, sensing the psionic energy between the two though he could not hear the dialogue. "Your slave has spirit, Lord Anghrist. Heh – no pun intended, of course."

"Indeed." Yami could feel Anghrist's eyes boring into the back of his bowed head before adding, --_The Coalition and the Federation of Magic both are getting wise to some of our operations, and the missions grow more complicated as a result – plus you are in need of a new liaison. That Dee-Bee was good enough to take up responsibility for both you and your vessel shortly after joining, which freed up the rest of your team for more urgent affairs, and quite frankly I am surprised that he survived as long as he did. Now he is dead. It was bound to happen. It had been my intention that Pur-n'kln work with the both of you before replacing Donovan, but that is not how it is. You will have to show him the ropes yourself. Pur-n'kln here is your new partner. He is an individual with unique capabilities to keep up even with you, in spite of your own nature, and will provide you with needed backup. Do you understand?--_

-- _. . . yes, sir_.--

"I assure you this one will give you no such trouble. He has been through specialized training procedures and implanted with certain safeguards to ensure his functionality without defect."

_What is it_, Yami thought with a twinge of horror, _a cyborg or something? But . . . mechanicals don't . . . bleed like that . . ._

"I will hold you to your word in this. Yami, your vessel is overdue for its care. See to it. Take your partner with you and show him around the base." He switched to telepathy once again, unwilling to reveal too much to his guests, as he placed a leisurely hand on top of the Puzzle stand – on top of the shallow, liquid-filled dish. --_I am allowing that you leave this room with your Puzzle so that you can teach Pur-n'kln more expediently how to care for your vessel. I trust you to be intelligent enough not to abuse that. I expect you both back here with the Puzzle within two hours. Have Pur-n'kln carry it._-- Aloud, he continued, "You two are not to leave one another's side without my personal order until further notice. Pur-n'kln, since you have already been briefed, you are no doubt aware of your partner's nature. When he is resting, the artifact the human body there is wearing will be in here, and you will be in here with it. Understood?"

"Yes, Master Anghrist. The slave understands." The creature's tenor voice was soft with a slight purr to the tone, not unpleasant to hear.

"Good. Then, go, both of you. Lord T'Ryllokh and I have other business to attend to."

Yami had already paid the penalty enough times to know better than to ignore some of the subtle and hidden rules of this game. Bile in his mouth at the words, he intoned, "Has the slave permission to rise and withdraw from Master's presence?" He heard one of the Conservators snicker softly.

"You have."

Only then did Yami climb to his feet, shame coloring his cheeks that others should bear witness to such wretched behavior. He exchanged looks with his "new partner," somehow unsurprised by the lack of judgment in his gaze, then crossed to the far corner of the room, the creature a step behind, having dropped to all fours to follow. It had struck Yami as odd that the usual power circle had been absent from the floor around Yugi's feet, but now he understood. He hesitated, unable to meet the blank, amethyst eyes staring at him, then decided that he would give these monsters no more hint of connection than they already had. As far as they would know, this boy meant nothing to him. Yugi might be less of a target that way in the future. "You, follow me." He spun on his heel and tramped stiffly from the room.

Down the hall and around a corner, he slowed his steps, maneuvering to put himself between Yugi and the were-cat. The creature looked a little surprised by the gesture, but simply stopped to watch and wait for indication of the next course of action, shifting back and settling on his haunches. Yami gazed in return, not sure himself of the next course of action. _How much should I reveal?_ At length, he sighed. _Probably everything. No doubt Anghrist meant for this creature to be a spy._ If he withheld knowledge of simple tasks from the beast, who knew what Anghrist would surmise as a result. He heaved another, deeper sigh, letting his expression soften quite a bit as he turned to his charge. "Come, Aibou. Let's get you something to eat." He put an affectionate arm around the shorter human's shoulders, steering him with gentle pressure.

The trio made its way to the cafeteria, and Yami showed Pur-n'kln where to find the trays and baskets of silverware. They ran into their first problem when Yami realized that Pur-n'kln did not speak American, either, and Yami wore the only Tongues amulet between them, so he had to order for both of his charges, carrying his _aibou's_ tray for him. Pur-n'kln rose back up on his hind legs to carry his own tray. He led them to the end of a row of tables, getting Yugi seated before realizing that Pur-n'kln was on the floor rather than the bench across from them. "What are you doing?"

"Eating."

Yami swallowed a groan. "I see that. Why aren't you at the table?"

The creature looked up with a tilt of his head, even as Yami realized that half of his meal was already gone. "Because that is inappropriate for me. My place is the floor."

That brought up several questions, but one bothered Yami more in that moment than all the rest combined. "What are you?"

"My masters' tool."

Yami's breath hitched, his mind stumbling over that response. "Wait. You're . . . a what?"

"I am what my masters made me to be, my skills and capabilities a toolbox for them to use as needed. As your partner, that toolbox is currently yours as well."

_Ancient gods . ._ . "Are you . . . a robot, or a construct of some kind?"

"Not a robot. A construct of a sort, I believe. I do not know for certain. I was once human, but Masters saw fit to make me a better tool for their use." Yami did not answer right away, absorbing that and, after a moment of his own hesitation, Pur-n'kln's head tucked uncertainly as he asked, "May I ask a question about your companion Aibou?"

Yami stiffened before making himself stand down as he finished cutting the meat into manageable pieces. He explained, his voice flat, "No, Pur-n'kln, you will call him Mutou."

"Aibou" was a name no one else called him – that was Yami's alone to use – but neither did he want anyone knowing the young man's full name, his true name, who did not already. The members of the mercenary company who knew of Yugi at all called him by the surname Yami had given at their initial capture. Anghrist had long ago dragged the rest of the truth from him – "Control/Enslave Entity" was a damnable spell the ancient spirit had not yet found a way to resist, especially since Anghrist could supplement the powerful incantation with the use of Yami's true name. However, to the best of Yami's reckoning, his master had yet to share the knowledge of Yugi's name with anyone, only once using the control that having one's true name granted a spellcaster – in this case, to separate the owner's essence.

Yami hesitated, studying his new "partner," who simply nodded, accepting the command. He released a breath. "What is your question?"

"Is he altered the way I am?"

"Is he – !?" Yami choked, clamping back on the knee-jerk protective reflex, and calmed his voice to ask, "What do you mean?"

The creature's eyes fell away from his with a shrug. "I . . . I am afraid that I am not sure. I have a sense for his presence. I felt . . . something, a connection of sorts, almost as soon as we arrived to this base and, when we entered Master Anghrist's chamber and I saw your companion, I realized that the feeling was from him. I understand Master Anghrist did something to him when you two were first captured."

Yami frowned in deep disgust as he slid the tray sideways in front of Yugi and gently closed his hands around the silverware. In a voice of infinite, uncharacteristic patience, he murmured, "Here you go, Aibou." He guided Yugi's hands for the first few bites, then let stereotypy take over. "Don't forget to chew – and swallow." That accomplished, he turned back to find the were-cat watching them in silent curiosity. "What do you know about that?"

"I have only the report that I was given. Some time back, Master Anghrist performed a powerful and specialized ritual for the 'Summon and Control Entity' spell. I do not know if you specifically were the entity he had in mind – I do understand that the spell requires at least a chosen target if not actual knowledge of the target's true name – but it was you and your living companion who appeared, he being pulled in apparently by accident but due to his deep connection to you, a bond between your souls through that artifact, I understand." He indicated the Millennium Puzzle. "You were not able to leave the summoning circle, but he could, not being bound by its energies. There was a fight, and he was grievously injured, nearly killed, before managing to take his other form." He hesitated briefly as Yami reacted to his words, but continued at a nod. "Still, even his magic was not enough to overcome Master Anghrist's level, and Master separated his soul from his body. Master keeps the body because it serves a purpose to him in your ability to perform your functions for him. Through the body as a focus, you can solidify your energy pattern into an imitation of a material form whereas otherwise you are incorporeal." He paused, head tilting in curiosity, before voicing the observation, "In return, it is you who care for him primarily?"

Yami sighed. "No, actually, this will be your job. Anghrist allowed me to have Aibou leave the study _with_ the Puzzle this one time to more quickly show you what you will need to do in the future. That's an unusual departure, at best. However, I will help. He only seems to hear and heed my voice." _When Anghrist doesn't have him in a power circle to prevent that . . _. Yami pulled a deep breath as he looked sidelong at this one who was like a second heart to him, adding softly, "Besides . . . it is my honor to care for him." He resisted the urge to embrace Yugi if only for his own comfort, settling for a shift in the plate's orientation to put a small heap of vegetables under the mindless locomotions of the fork. This was one of the rare times in decades that he had been able to interact with his closest friend – his other heart, his _aibou_ – in a physical way, especially as Anghrist had done something to block him or any other entities from possessing the soulless shell, and Yami appreciated such opportunities, even if it were only to play nurse.

"He is . . . your brother? Or related in some other way?"

Yami's throat closed on him, almost disabling him from answering. "He is like a brother, yes." Yugi was the closest thing to family that Yami knew, having no memories of his previous life. He had learned that he was a pharaoh in Ancient Egypt whose soul had become imprisoned in one of seven powerful golden artifacts, the Millennium Items. The reason for this had continued to elude him, though he nearly discovered it once, only to have that chance ripped from him.

He had been dormant from ancient times until the end of the Twentieth Century, when the one who had been destined to solve the unsolvable Millennium Puzzle had been born and matured to the point that Fate and the gods felt him ready to fulfill his destiny. At the age of fifteen, Mutou Yugi finally solved the puzzle over which he had struggled for eight years. Doing so awakened an amnesiac spirit, whom he and his friends had come to refer to as "Yami" because the spirit did not recall his true name any more than he did any other detail of his existence, his mind as veiled as the dark power that sustained him. From then on, Yugi was Yami's partner in their struggles together, his material vessel that allowed him – by possessing the boy's body – to interact with the world around him. More importantly, Yugi was Yami's closest friend, his little brother, his heart of Light . . . really, there was no word Yami knew that truly captured the depth and meaning of the relationship he shared with his living counterpart.

At long last, after two years of fighting and searching, Yami, Yugi and their friends had obtained the materials they had been told would unlock Yami's mind and restore his memories and true sense of self. The small company met at a museum, Yami prepared to present three unique cards to a mystical tablet of ancient stone, dating back to the time of his original birth. What he could not have known was of the trap that laid in wait for him. The energies released by the combination of the cards and his aura reacting to the stone's own energies triggered what he would later discover to have been a warp of some kind. It bound him and Yugi in a sort of static limbo, mercifully incognizant of the passage of time – at least five to six hundred years to the best of Yami's reckoning – before a jolt of energy yanked them free to find themselves standing in the center of a circle of power glyphs inscribed in an obsidian floor. The day proved to be only the beginning of their nightmare.

The click of the fork on the plate brought Yami back to the present. Yugi had finished and was absently continuing the gesture of fork-to-plate-to-mouth, chew-and-swallow. "No, no, Aibou. That's enough." Yami took back the silverware, and Yugi's hands fell to his lap. Yami stood, but Pur-n'kln was already there, reaching for the tray with a question in his eyes. Yami nodded, and the creature took Yugi's tray with his own back to the service counter.

Returning, Pur-n'kln queried softly, "What is next?"

Yami glanced up from helping his _aibou_ drink before crumpling and tossing the paper cup. "The gym. We have a small track for walking and running. Aibou doesn't get any exercise or movement at all without direction, so it is up to us to make sure his muscles don't weaken and lock up. He goes after every meal, when possible."

Empathy shone in the creature's gaze. "You take very good care of him."

Yami's throat closed on him yet again at that simple statement, his eyes dropping away from Pur-n'kln's. The events of the day, the loss to his already battered heart, had his level of self-control less than he would have liked, the walls worn even thinner than usual. One arm snaked around Yugi's shoulders, hugging the smaller boy to himself before he really knew what he was doing. Then, it did not matter, and he embraced the empty body of his other heart with the fervor of decades of suppressed care. With effort, he choked out in a low voice, "I . . . only wish I could do more." At that, he relented to the impulse of his weary heart, shifting to wrap his other arm around Yugi as well, face burying into thick, dirty hair. The body, of course, did not embrace him in return, but it did lean into him a little. Spectral tears slid down Yami's cheeks only to evaporate as they left contact with him to touch the red-black locks under his chin. It had been a long day already.

At length, Yami cleaned his face and straightened, turning to lead his charges once more. One arm remained around his other heart, Pur-n'kln taking up a position just behind his opposite shoulder. Yami glanced back once but could not bring himself to meet his "new partner's" eyes again until they reached the gym.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks! 


	3. Chapter 3 Partners

Shorter Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. "Rifts: Role-Playing Game," "Nightspawn/Nightbane: Role-Playing Game," and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Palladium Books Publishing and related entities. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Between the Shadows"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 3 – Partners

The threesome reached the gym and headed straight for the half-sized track that encircled the collection of exercise equipment, Yami coaxing Yugi into a light jog, the creature loping alongside at an easy, four-legged pace. Pur-n'kln seemed equally suited to operate on two or four limbs. Yami saw the beast eyeing him and Yugi sidelong and finally asked, "What is it?"

Pur-n'kln flinched, hesitating before he replied. "Ah . . . I-I was just wondering . . . I understand that you have been in Master Anghrist's service for quite some time now. The boy is human, is he not? And yet he appears barely into his teens . . . ?"

At first glance, Yugi seemed all of twelve to fourteen years old. In truth, his appearance had not changed since the day they presented the God cards to the trap-ensorcelled tablet. Yugi had been seventeen. Since Donovan had assumed responsibility for his friend and his friend's human "vessel," the Dee-Bee had taken care to keep Yugi's nails trimmed, his hair as tidy as possible, but beyond these were no indications of growth or aging in the boy's physical body over the ensuing years. _N__ot even a beard_, Yami thought with a hint of dark humor. He suspected it had something to do with the change he had sensed in his partner the day Anghrist summoned and enslaved them, when Yugi seemed to shapeshift into a likeness of their signature avatar, the Dark Magician. He pulled a deep breath. "Aibou will be . . . sixty? No, sorry, sixty-one – in June . . . but you're right. He still looks like he did the day we found ourselves in this gods-forsaken reality."

"Ah . . . I too have not visibly aged since Masters gifted me with this body. My human form still looks the age I was back then."

Yami eyed him warily. "What do you mean?"

"This form, my beast form, is one of two primary appearances I can manifest. I mentioned earlier that I am no longer human, not completely anyway – but I was, once." He stopped, closing his eyes to concentrate. Yami caught Yugi's arm, halting their jog, and watched in startled fascination as Pur-n'kln's body blurred and shifted. Before him now stood a boy in his pre-to-early teens, hazel eyes watching him from under unruly, dark blond bangs. Ragged jeans and a tattered t-shirt kept him modest, his feet bare.

_There must be some unspoken rule somewhere that slaves wear only shabby clothing,_ Yami observed with a sardonic shake of his head, resolutely not looking down at his own threadbare attire.

"I . . . have never known my age – such trivia is not important for a tool – but since the successful experiment that gave me the beast form, I have served Master Splynncryth through High Lords for probably five or six decades, to best guess. I _do_ have the power to alter the appearance of my human form now, as a side effect of the powers gained with my beast form, but this is the natural apparent state and age." As though to prove his words, his form blurred again, recreating Yugi's appearance perfectly before returning to the original form.

Yami gazed back at him in some shock. "Handy. You . . . must be older than Aibou, then. And you have been a slave all your life?"

The boy gave a matter-of-fact nod. "I have, or at least for as long as I can remember."

_"For as long as I can remember."_ Yami winced. _Much as I have been a captive in a small, golden prison for as long as I can remember?_

Pur-n'kln returned to his "beast form" so they could continue their jog, and Yami noted that the terrible whip wounds were back where they had been absent from the human form. "If you have the ability to shapeshift," Yami ventured after a moment of contemplation, "do you have an ability to heal yourself as well?"

Pur-n'kln nodded with a hint of pride. "I have. I was gifted with an ability to bio-regenerate even more quickly than a dragon."

Yami had seen the rate at which an injured dragon healed. It was not quite so rapidly that one could sit and watch the wounds close before one's eyes, but nearly so. For that matter, he _had_ seen Yugi's body heal itself of wounds before his very eyes, on the not-so-uncommon occasion that Anghrist punished Yami by forcing him to watch – or worse, participate – as Yugi's body was beaten in his place. He knew that the healing was not Anghrist's doing . . .

Yami shook his head. That was not the point he had meant to make. "If you have such a regenerative ability, why are you still injured?" He indicated the creature's lacerated back.

Pur-n'kln swallowed before answering, looking away. "It is because . . . I am not technically injured. The whiplashes are a permanent part of this form. They are . . . recompense for past sins."

"And the collar and cuffs?" . . . _that look like they're so tight, they have broken skin, the edges festering . . . ?_

Pur-n'kln nodded. "Also part of the form." One clawed hand started to go to his throat, a self-conscious gesture, before he caught himself.

The three continued around the track a few more times without further conversation, Yami guiding Yugi to move his arms around, open and close his hands, and perform a few other simple exercises to ward off atrophy. When they finished, Pur-n'kln started for the locker room, knowing that the human needed a shower, but Yami shook his head and they left the gym, heading into the section of living quarters, passing a handful of personnel here and there who eyed the trio with smug superiority, letting comments like "Ghosty" and "Dead-weight" float in their wake. One officer paused with an expression of mock-sympathy. "Hey, Spooky, heard your manslave didn't make it back from the last mission. Furball here your new helper? Heh – didn't take long to find a replacement, huh?" Yami hunched and kept walking, shoving his hands into his pockets with a dark scowl. There were any number of ways he could have responded to the insults – desperately wanted to – but he was forbidden from showing anything even resembling disrespect for the "legitimate" members of the company. Without an ensorcelled amulet of his own, Pur-n'kln did not understand the words being spoken, but the tone of voice was enough for him. He padded along behind in silent obedience.

Yami stopped at a door in a far hallway with "M. Donovan" on a small plaque. The palm scanner on this door had been mystically modified just like the ones for a selection of the transport chambers and other portals through the complex and related bases. He activated it, entering as the door slid aside. "These quarters belonged to a friend of mine, who helped me care for Aibou . . . before he was killed . . . just a few hours ago, in fact . . . " Yami cleared his throat of clogging grief and ushered Pur-n'kln to follow. The cramped, two-room suite was comfortable for a single common soldier, consisting of a reading desk and a couch that could be folded down into a bed, with a few shelves for personals along the wall above. The second room, to the right, was a modest bathroom. Recognizing where he was through whatever lower level of awareness had been left him, Yugi ambled into the bathroom, Yami on his heels.

Pur-n'kln hesitated, as though unsure if he should follow, but stepped in behind them at a gesture from the spirit. He started the bathwater running upon request as Yami helped his _aibou_ to undress. Yami frowned, and not for the first time, at the worn state of the clothes – he had been disallowed to help in Yugi's care for nearly a month, kept busy with assignments elsewhere as another form of discipline for a minor infraction – then murmured as he remembered something Donovan had said that morning on the way out to the pick-up point. "Pur-n'kln – " He frowned a bit, knowing he had butchered the pronunciation. _Hn_. " – see if you can find a change of clothes in the other room that will fit him. Donovan told me he had purchased a new set just yesterday while he was over in Tolkeen." He caught himself tugging self-consciously at his own tattered apparel again.

Though his garments were not material, they reflected his psyche. As he had always done, he wore what Yugi wore. Still, he had been all but completely cut off from his source of being. Yami could not exist without the support of Yugi's living energies, his heart and soul, in addition to the Shadow powers of the Millennium Puzzle. And without another's living mind to call him out, the Puzzle's incessant tug wore on him, pulling him back into its depths. However, Anghrist had worked dark and ancient magic that allowed Yami to "live on" with only indirect contact and support from his other half, Anghrist's own mind willing the spirit from his golden prison in place of the one Fate had chosen, but that unnatural existence was not without a price. No matter how long Yami slept between summonings, he never felt fully rested. A vague sense of being overstretched pervaded him, worsening imperceptibly through the years.

The creature nodded and stepped out to do as instructed. As he searched, he commented, "I have heard of Tolkeen, though I have not been there myself. It is one of the largest and most powerful cities on the continent that is not allied with the Coalition States, strong both as a technological and industrial presence and as a formidable magic community, second only to Lazlo further north and east in terms of mystic and scholarly pursuits – well, except possibly for the Federation of Magic's Dweomer City."

Yami shook his head in renewed wonder. "Full of trivia, are you?" he asked lightly, covering his surprise at the creature's knowledge.

He could hear the modest pride in the other's voice. "The gathering and retention of potentially useful information is one of my functions, sir."

Yami scowled suddenly at the creature's tone of voice, his own flat. "No. No 'sir,' Pur-n'kln. I'm your . . . your 'partner,' not your master. I am as much a _slave_ in this place as you are." He could not help, nor did he even attempt to hide, the tone of disgust and disgrace that roughened his voice with the admission. "Anghrist reminds me of it at every turn." Once again, he suppressed a shudder against the thought of some of those reminders.

Pur-n'kln returned to the bathroom with a pile of neatly-folded fabrics in his arms. "I-it's not so bad, really," he offered by way of comfort. "If you just obey without hesitation or trouble, punishment _can_ be avoided . . . usually . . . " The creature would not meet Yami's eyes as he spoke, but then Yami saw the question in his gaze as he noted via peripheral vision the last of the garments coming off the human's body.

Yami chuckled. He had long gotten over any embarrassment on Yugi's behalf concerning the necessary underclothing. His _aibou_ wore what amounted to an adult-sized diaper with tiny quartz crystals worked into the material, mystically programmed to trigger activation of a "Cleanse" spell upon contact with certain chemicals. He had socks of similar construction as well. Anghrist would not have his slave's vessel falling ill or poisoning himself from neglect. "Are you body-shy?" Yami asked with a chuckle as he helped Yugi out of that and into the shower, adorned now only by the Millennium Puzzle. The creature shook his head. "Good. Then come here and pay attention. Here's what you will need to do . . ."

The next half-hour became a lesson in nursing practices, Yami highly critical in details and Pur-n'kln an attentive student. Then, they dried and clothed their charge, dressing him in fresh jeans and a soft tunic. Yami asked Pur-n'kln to go find the clock and check the time as he worked his _aibou_'s boots back onto his feet. "Damn . . . we need to hurry. Anghrist told me that he wanted us back in two hours. We have less than fifteen minutes left." He had stepped into the shower fully clothed – though their appearance changed with Yugi's – and now enjoyed watching Pur-n'kln eye him in fascination as he handed Yugi the Tongues talisman, let go of his solidity only briefly, then took the amulet back. Whenever he went de-solid, anything that was not innately of him fell away – in this case, water. Instantly dry, he stepped from the tub.

Pur-n'kln backpedaled with Yugi to allow him space in the cramped bathroom, smiling quietly. "I think we both have small surprises for each other."

Yami returned the grin. "No doubt. Come on."

They cleaned up and hastened from the room, Pur-n'kln even scooping Yugi into his arms and sprinting along on his hind legs for more rapid transit. Returning to the deeper sections of the base, Yami located a small chamber not far from Anghrist's study that rather resembled a broom closet. Once again, a mystically-enhanced palm scanner allowed him access, the door opening on a space devoid of furniture or adornment of any kind save for a bench against the back wall. Pur-n'kln set down his passenger, and Yugi shuffled in, Yami guiding him to the bench so that he did not misjudge and fall off. "All right, Aibou. Pur-n'kln and I – " His voice cut off. He had never introduced their new companion to Yugi. Yami made a point of telling Yugi everything that happened, just in case there was a portion of his mind that was still somehow cognizant. At least, he remembered Yugi doing the same for an old friend and gaming rival of theirs, one Kaiba Seto, when Kaiba had been hospitalized for catatonia. That had been after – Yami shook his head, not willing to go there right now. "Aibou, I'm sorry. I just realized that I've not yet introduced . . . This is Pur-n'kln. He's our new partner. Pur-n'kln, please say 'hello'." Yami did not meet the other's eye as he made the request.

Pur-n'kln tilted his head briefly in question but gave the pitiable human a bow of genuine respect. "A pleasure to properly meet you, Master Mutou."

"Donovan . . . i-is gone, Aibou, so he can't take care of you anymore. Pur-n'kln will be taking Donovan's place in that respect." Again, he fought back tears of grief at the loss, having already shed plenty once Anghrist had finally dismissed him earlier. Now was not the time. He forced a smile and chided, "Be sure you behave for him when I can't be here, all right?" He brushed affectionate fingers down his brother's cheek. "Take care, Aibou. I'll be back as soon as I can." With that, he stepped away and removed the Talisman of Tongues, offering it to Pur-n'kln. The creature accepted the pendent, donning and activating it. Yami explained, "You'll have to remove the Puzzle from him. Once you do, I will no longer be able to be solid, and the amulet will be dropped anyway. Come on. Anghrist is waiting, and he can be a very impatient man."

Pur-n'kln simply nodded his understanding and slipped the chain up over Yugi's head. Yami flinched at the change in his energy pattern as the physical contact was broken, an odd spasm he knew he would never get used to if he had not already. With that, they sped off, barely reaching the study in time.

Yami knew his terrible master well enough to realize that he had pushed too far this day, even if the motion towards the hematite summoning stone were no more than threat. This time, he did not hesitate before slipping to his knees, bending forward on his hands with head bowed. Pur-n'kln followed suit, though his hands were upraised to offer the Puzzle for their master to reclaim. Yami watched Anghrist's booted feet approach, heard the clinking of chain, and saw Pur-n'kln drop to full submission pose once the artifact was out of his care, folded completely over has he had been earlier. Yami listened as Anghrist returned his Puzzle to the wrought-iron stand, imagining the arcane gestures he described in the air over the topper dish so that it could be tilted out of the way for replacement of the golden treasure without losing any of the precious fluid it cradled. Even as he waited for their master to speak, however, a sensation both familiar and frightful tugged at his attention. There was another presence in the room.

"Yami, Pur-n'kln, stand."

The two pulled quickly to their feet, Pur-n'kln maintaining eye contact with the carpet. Yami dared to look up, eyes furtively scanning the room for the source of the presence sense that shot a shiver of wretched expectancy up his spine. He prayed in silent fervor that he was wrong.

Anghrist chuckled, a cold sound devoid of true humor. "Come out, Lilia. He already knows you're here."

A translucent apparition floated into view through one of the bookcases on the opposite side of the room, Pur-n'kln suppressing a startled flinch at the sight. "Aww . . . not as much fun when you can't surprise them," murmured a feminine voice, a lilt of insanity gilding her tone.

Yami could not help it. He backpedaled three full, stumbling steps before managing to catch himself, trembling instantly, utter horror filling him at the sight of the creature. The fact that Pur-n'kln did not react in kind only meant that he did not recognize her for what she was.

A silky black catsuit of spiked-and-belted leathers, reminiscent of a BDSM-dominatrix, wrapped a stunningly athletic body, feet and legs clad in thigh-high black leather boots with impossibly tall, stiletto heels. Her face and hands, however – the only places where bare skin could be found – belied the beauty-pageant perfection of the rest of the body, the flesh horribly withered, even skeletal, like a mummy's visage. A full head of long, white locks crowned the creature, tresses falling past her knees. A cold light shone in solid-silver eyes as they found Pur-n'kln first. "Ah! Nabbed another Nightspawn, have you, Master?"

"Lilia . . . " Anghrist murmured, his tone a warning.

Those cruelly amused, inhuman eyes shifted to Yami, who did not quite suppress a gulp of fear. "An old birdie told Lilia that little Yami's been a naughty boy again." She giggled madly as she stepped close, waggling a finger at him as one might to a small child. A hooked sword hung unsheathed from a studded belt that wrapped her slender hips, but she did not yet visibly wield the weapon that Yami truly dreaded. For his part, it was all Yami could do to hold his ground and meet the ghastly creature's gaze, knowing what was in store. _Oh, gods . . ._ He was in _so_ much trouble.

He did not know how Anghrist had come to have one in his service, but Yami had learned firsthand to know horrific terror decades ago when facing a member of the race of Astral beings known only as Torturians.

"Yes, he has," Anghrist growled, "but you can't have him this time."

The monster gasped in giddy delight. "Ahh!! Do I get the _other_ one?!" She was moving almost before Anghrist nodded in confirmation, a twenty-plus-foot whip materializing in her hand, wicked barbs interrupting its length, most prominently at the tip. Pur-n'kln dropped back into submission pose with a squeak of panic at the sight.

At that, too, Yami finally found his voice with a horrified gasp. "Oh, gods, Lilia – no!!"

Being an Astral entity just as she was, Yami dove forward, able to clutch at her incorporeal arm, but Lilia threw him off easily, his human strength no match for her supernatural attributes. She cracked the whip with expert precision, so that just the exaggerated tip immersed itself into the liquid mercury at the top of the Puzzle's wrought-iron stand. The physical material of the silvery fluid remained undisturbed, but its Astral aspect sloshed at the intrusion. Like a professional fisherman, Lilia felt the whip snag its prey successfully, and she tugged. At first, the shimmering energy being ensnared on the end of the whip was amorphous as it emerged from the Astral aspect of the mercury but, as it regained cognition, it instinctively coalesced itself.

"No . . . _Aibou!!_" Yami moaned in renewed horror.

At first, soul-Yugi did not take note of Yami, nor of anything outside of himself, falling to his knees from nauseating pain as his hands reached back in a futile attempt to remove the whip barb from between his shoulder blades. Yami knew from too many experiences that the whip's very touch produced constant agony, the slightest movement ripping keenly through the unfortunate victim. Failing to free himself, Yugi forced his mind to gather and take stock, to find the reason for his awakening _this_ time. Frightened, pain-riddled eyes of bright amethyst met those of the enslaved spirit.

Yami turned and collapsed at Anghrist's feet, folding over completely into full submission pose with his head pressed to the backs of his hands on the carpet. For only one would he debase himself to that level but, for him, Yami did so freely, without hesitation. "_Master_ Anghrist, please, I _beg_ you – leave Aibou out of this! _I'm_ the one that has acted out. _I'm_ the one that has failed you and drawn out your wrath. For gods' sakes, _please_ – release him. Give me to Lilia. I'll go without a struggle, I swear it!!" He choked, voice catching in his throat. Torturians were cultivated by other dark forces to be the ultimate sadists, skilled beyond measure in the deepest and most effective ways to bring out maximal suffering in others. Lilia's direct attention for even a moment was the last thing Yami wanted – again – but he would promise just about anything, suffer _anything_, to spare his little brother, his _aibou_, that torture. "M-master Anghrist . . . "

Lilia snickered, purring, "Mmmm . . . what delicious anguish, little lovely." Like an intoxicating aroma, she stood soaking in the sensation of emotional torment – readily palpable to those of her kind –with just as much heady thrill as the bodily pain she sensed emanating from her dwarfish prisoner.

"Get. Up."

Those two words, clipped and pregnant with menace, had Yami back on his feet almost before he realized what he was doing. He gasped in shock as Anghrist clamped one hand on his throat, energy crackling around the whole limb from an incantation that allowed Anghrist to affect the intangible. Alarmed, Yami clutched at the thick hand collaring him, eyes snapping up to meet those of startling turquoise glaring back in controlled fury. "We have been over this too many times now, _slave_. Every action has a consequence. Disobedience, disrespect, failure – each infraction on your behalf carries a punishment, Yami Mutou, and no, not every price is paid by you. I have let you replace him with yourself as often as not in the past, but not this time. You and Pur-n'kln will be leaving within the hour for Tolkeen to meet up with Commander Bleidd and finish the exchange. You will leave knowing that your vessel's soul-self will be taking your punishment in your stead." His hand tightened, eliciting a choking moan from its prisoner. "Perhaps I have been too lax with you of late. You know full well that I do not tolerate any show of attitude or resistance from you. Get this through that thick head of hair." His other hand buried itself in a fistful of locks at the crown and pulled down, forcing Yami's head back to a painful angle to look up at him. "I. Will _Not_. Tolerate. You to dishonor me in front of guests. Lord T'Ryllokh is one of the High Lords who works directly with Splynncryth himself, the Splugorth who rules Atlantis. Favorable relations with him and his are something I have cultivated for centuries now, and I will _NOT_ have you damage that in any way! _Do_ I make myself perfectly clear, Yami Mutou?"

"Y-yes, M-master An-ghrist . . . " Yami croaked, barely able to force the words past the grip and unnatural angle.

Without easing his hold on his thrall, Anghrist turned to Lilia, who had tucked the handle of her whip through her belt and was mimicking the man's hold on her own charge, drinking in the sensation of added discomfort arising from the wretched soul. Yami dared to glance over as well, then looked away, unable to bear the sight of the hot tears streaming down his _aibou's_ spectral face. "Lilia – " Anghrist growled. "Lilia! Look at me. One hour. You will have that human back here in exactly one hour's time. A single minute's tardiness, and I will hunt you down myself. Allow yourself to be delayed by anyone or anything, and I will hunt you down myself. You _know_ what I will do if you force me to take that measure."

It never ceased to amaze Yami, the sight of the sadistic Astral monster caving in so thoroughly under the merest threat of suffering torture herself. She dropped to her knees, cuddling soul-Yugi into herself as a small girl might clutch a teddy bear for comfort. "Nonononono – no, Master, Lilia will be good! She will have the pretty little human back to Master in time. Master will not have to take measures. Lilia will be a good girl." She nodded emphatically, petting at Yugi, who could do no more than shudder and squirm at her touch, suppressing moans of wretched protest.

"I will hold you to that, Lilia. As for you two – Pur-n'kln, I am well aware of your phobia, but I know that you can still hear me. You and Yami are to go to Transport Chamber G-7 to meet your team. Yami will show you where to go once through. I will count on you to get him moving and to the transporter in thirty minutes' time." He shifted his attention once again, eyes boring into Yami's. "Do. Not. Fail." He released his grip and strode from the room without so much as a backwards glance as Lilia stood, pausing only a moment before she dragged her charge backwards through the bookcase.

Choking, Yami collapsed to the floor, a sob escaping his bruised throat. "No-o-o," he moaned, curling over in abject misery. _Gods of mercy, if any exist, save us. Aibou . . . f-forgive . . . me . . ._

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks! 


	4. Chapter 4 Bent

Shorter Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. "Rifts: Role-Playing Game," "Nightspawn/Nightbane: Role-Playing Game," and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Palladium Books Publishing and related entities. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Between the Shadows"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 4 – Bent

_If I fall along the way,  
Pick me up and dust me off,  
And if I get too tired to make it,  
Be my breath so I can walk._

_I started out clean, but I'm jaded –  
Just phoning it in,  
Just breaking the skin._

_Can you help me? I'm bent.  
I'm so scared that I'll never  
Get put back together.  
You're breaking me in,  
And this is how we will end,  
With you and me bent._

"Bent" – Matchbox 20

_Aibou . . . f-forgive me . . . _

_Of _course_, I forgive you! Other Me_ . . .

Tears streamed down Yugi's cheeks, out of terror for himself and what was to come, but equally in grief and empathy for the suffering of his other heart. Through the "noise" of agony, Yugi had heard the master's harsh warning and could piece together the gist of what must have happened.

Usually, Yugi slept. Mercifully, it was a dreamless sleep for the most part, at least as far as he was aware, but there were plenty of times when emotions, images, impressions – pain, shame, horror – pressed in through the comfortable, liquid silver-white that comprised his existence anymore. He had no idea how much time had passed since that fateful day in a darkened chamber of obsidian stone, where mercury runes lay scrawled across the floor in circular patterns of power. It had been years at least – long years of sleep for himself, of torture, degradation and slavery for the one he loved as a brother and more. Yugi knew that he was the key to Yami's obedience, that his other self would do anything to keep him safe. He also knew that it did not always work, that it was Yugi who paid many times for Yami's failings. Yugi did not know who this man was, though he had managed to catch a name over time – Anghrist. It was a set of sounds as unsettling and foreboding as the man to whom it belonged. He was not human. Yugi could not be sure what he thought Anghrist was or how he knew, but he _knew_ – Anghrist was far from human.

And this Anghrist had managed to do what none before him could. Somehow, he had claimed, tamed, and mastered an ancient power of pride, honor, wrath, vengeance, integrity, and strength. Without having to break his will altogether, this Anghrist had completely enslaved Yami, successfully bending the spirit's knee to himself, raping that vast power for his own personal use.

That knowledge galled and disturbed Yugi to no end, but there had been nothing so far that he could do to help – when he was conscious enough even to think straight. And when he _was_ conscious, he often could not think straight for other reasons. He shuddered, knowing that he would very soon enter one of those periods of time. He never could keep a cohesive train of thought past the agony when Lilia brought him out to "play."

He knew the route fairly well by now. With a thought, a push of willful mental energy, Lilia had crossed a barrier of some sort, entering a white, senseless realm of mist, fog, and shifting clouds. Here there was no up or down, no sense of direction whatsoever, yet somehow Lilia knew exactly where she was going, giggling under her breath with mad anticipation. Yugi took a moment to look down at his astral self in a vain attempt at distraction. Somehow, he appeared more solid than she did, but still rather ghostlike, glowing a bright, translucent blue-white with tiny slow-strobe flashes of white, yellow and blue, and shots of red and orange thrown in from the pain of the whip barb still embedded in his back. Those flashes changed colors depending on the mood, and Yugi knew that Lilia would be chortling in delight as the red and orange took over the other colors. Tears stung his eyes at the thought.

Another push of intent opened what looked like a pool of water, except that it existed vertically in midair. Sometimes Lilia had proven somewhat talkative, and Yugi had learned that where they stood now in the Astral Plane was referred to as the Outer Layer, one of three major, recognized zones of reality. The "window" was a portal to the Inner Plane. They stepped through onto a long, wide line of shimmering blue light traversing a mist-covered flatland. Lilia had told him it was called a Dragon Road, and equated to something called ley lines on the Prime Material Planes such as Earth. From where they stood, he could see four more Dragon Roads, all going in different directions to disappear under the rolling mists. Like enormous soap bubbles, there were a few shimmering spheres in sight as well – astral domains and astral kingdoms, Lilia had told him. They turned toward one such bubble-domain, within which Yugi could see a massive and forbidding fortress that might have been designed from the deepest nightmares of European Dark Age architects. It was a Torturian stronghold.

Slipping through the cold layer of ectoplasm was as simple – and as shocking – as diving through a waterfall. As always, Yugi shied back in spite of himself, shuddering in horror – there was no escaping a visit to this horrific fortress once through – only for Lilia to twist and yank the whip barb. Collapsing in on himself in pain, Yugi was easily hauled through the film and up to the menacing portcullis of the vile structure beyond.

Now that they had arrived, Yugi fought a rising panic. _An hour._ He shuddered. _An hour counted on Earth or an hour reckoned in the Astral Plane?_ Time flowed differently here. An hour in this otherworldly realm was a minute back home . . . which meant that Lilia would get to "play" for what would feel like two-and-a-half days. _G-gods . . ._ Tears fell anew, as he began to withdraw into himself in fright.

The stronghold was as vast and unintelligible as Yami's soul room, far larger on the inside than the visual appearance without. Lacking the innate navigation of the natives, one could wander here for days and never find what he or she sought. _Not as if anyone would come looking_, Yugi thought sullenly, though he found himself sometimes fantasizing otherwise. _ Only two people know where I am. One is the reason I'm here to begin with, and the other . . ._ He did not hold Yami but Anghrist responsible for this, and he did not want Yami to be here in this terrible place. If it were a choice of himself or his brother, who already suffered so much . . . then so be it. Small consolation that was, but one in which Yugi did find honest comfort and satisfaction. This was the one thing he could do for Yami – spare him Lilia's attention. He found new determination with that thought and set about redirecting his mind. As he had learned to do over the years, Yugi began shutting himself down, locking away parts of himself and dampening others.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention just then, a brief flash of accompanying sensation somehow jarringly out of place in this horror house. At the same time, however, Lilia turned a corner, and they plunged into a sea of evil beings.

8 8 8 8 8

A shadow flitted back from the corner, a slip of a girl assuring herself that she, in fact, had not been spotted. Glancing back around, she realized that she had lost him, looking as she was now on a large rotunda full of entities of all descriptions, the hallways as numerous as strands of spiderwebbing leading away from all along the walls. A very un-lady-like "Shit!" escaped her pale lips before both hands clamped over her mouth in alarm.

_You poor innocent . ._ .

She had followed him here from that monster's study. She had planned to rescue him but had not counted on the . . . complications that were arising. There were far more vile beings here than she could handle by herself, and she knew it. She sighed. Well, there was only one thing left that she could do: scout the place out, learn all she could, and hope to relocate the boy in the process, even if she could not extract him. If she could find the favorite haunt of the bitch that had him . . .

She melted back into the shadows, maneuvering along the walls by such powers that even these Astral beings could not sense her. _Good thing, too_, she mused. These boys and girls did not play nice, though thankfully she didn't know it from personal experience – yet. She intended to keep it that way. As she slunk along, observing the goings-on around her, she thought back over the last several hours.

She had been in Demon's Gate at her "grandmother's" behest. Ratri had sensed the resonance of two of her own in close proximity to one another, the first ripples of a gathering that had not occurred in over six hundred years, and so the goddess had decided to send one of her fosterlings to investigate. A dimension-shifting Shadow Realm half-breed, Lanthi had easily located the two humans, a father and son, who had come into possession of two of Grandmother's "items" and had been tailing them for almost a week, learning more about them and what they knew about the artifacts in their keeping. Then, just hours ago, an astral being had crossed her path that stopped her dead in her tracks. Like a passing tuning fork added to the harmony of the two already humming across the surface of her mind, the new vibration had hit her supernatural senses like a Doppler shift . . . and it was empowered by _living_ Shadow energy! That alone had been enough to give her pause. No creature of that realm should exist here. She had dropped her current assignment and given chase.

Lanthi had been quite proud of herself, managing not to lose him even when he passed right through buildings. It had been when he paused to have a door physically open that she thought she had better shift into a pure energy being as well and attach herself to his pattern, which had allowed her to piggyback on his trip through the transport chambers. She had detached herself from him once again as he made his way deep into the complex, and was then grateful for that insight. Normally, her practice was to stay attached to her prey until she had obvious reason to do otherwise, and that would have caught her in whatever torturous spell the being's master had cast on him. Her heart had ached in empathy at his shrieking. The attack could not have lasted more than a moment or so, but it felt like an hour's worth as she shuddered for him.

A _proud_ being, that one. She had known from the first steps into the master's chamber, when hesitation born of anger and humiliated pride paused him in his steps, clenching his fists at his sides. She could hear it in his voice, in the stiff tremor of his words, and yet he had submitted. Only later would she understand why. Until then, she had found greater interest in the inverted pyramid of wrought gold on the master's desk. She had frozen, recognizing the ancient artifact instantly, shocked to find it in this place – the greatest of Ratri's mystic Items, the Millennium Puzzle. It called to her, being the source of the resonance she had heard thrumming on the edge of her mind since turning to follow the human apparition.

Home. It "tasted" of home – there was no other taste like it – and she knew without doubt that it did not belong in this creature's possession. She knew what he was, could see in her mind his real form. The entity she had followed there had somehow become enslaved to a true _monster_, an ancient and powerful one. _Poor spirit's soooo screwed_, she mused, hearing her brother's voice behind the choice of words.

After the spirit withdrew into the Puzzle, she remained with the monster, observing him over the next few hours. This one definitely bore watching . . . and she was going to have to warn her brother. Soon. _Azhar, what have you gotten yourself into?_

Her brother was a mercenary – _Damn good one, at that!_ – who served in a small company under the overall dominion of the Garai Alliance, a umbrella entity, a conglomerate of underground activity headed by one Anghrist Nidhug – _this_ Anghrist whom she now knew was . . . far more than most of those who served him realized. And he was a possessor of one of the Items she had been sent to locate.

And he had close ties to Atlantis, to boot. She groaned.

Perhaps she should not have been so surprised when the High Lord showed up, followed by those three Conservators. She _was_ justifiably startled by the Nightspawn in their midst. _Grandmother will not be pleased_. Then, the soulless body of the spirit's "vessel" was fetched, and Lanthi had caught her breath, eyes darting between the were-cat and the catatonic body. There were two! These creatures were rare and powerful, and Anghrist had two in his control. _Scratch that. Grandmother's gonna be pissed!_ Lanthi watched and listened carefully, studying the conversation that ensued and thanking her tutors now that they had pushed her to learn so many languages, Dragonese being one of them. When the two slaves had withdrawn from the masters' presence, taking the soulless Nightspawn with them, she decided to follow them. The masters' plans could be ascertained later. It was these three whom she felt needed the more immediate attention.

The spirit's dedication impressed her. She could read in his interactions with his empty, Nightspawn "vessel" and the words about him to his new partner, the deep love he felt and long sacrifices he had suffered. Her heart went out to him all over again. And then there was his new Nightspawn partner, the feline one who seemed to believe that his Atlantean masters had granted him his form and abilities. That one needed to be re-educated, and she knew just the one to do it. She would have to ask Ghost to train them both, once the younger Nightspawn was healed of his schism.

And that younger Nightspawn's missing spirit! Lanthi shook her head as her thoughts returned to the task at hand. _Gods, what a mess_. That one was a soul of unparalleled Good that had no business being in that monster's clutches . . . and even less of a place here in this vile prison. She could only pray, as frustration mounted with each passing moment, that she could find and steal the poor soul from the hands of the Torturians.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!


	5. Chapter 5 Monsters

For those of you /not/ new to this story but have it on Author Alerts (and I THANK YOU for that, by the way, if you do) before this date of September 10, 2007, please note that YES there is new material but this, Chp 5, is not it. I am reposting the story, though again it /does/ include new material – mostly within the chapters but also one whole new chapter in the middle of all this, as well as the most recent (Chp 11 as of this posting). Please see the explanation in Chp 1, and then I invite you to re-read the fic thus far. I am very pleased with the result, and now that I have an idea where the hell I'm GOING with this, I think it's about time to continue the journey, ne? ((grins))

Shorter Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. "Rifts: Role-Playing Game," "Nightspawn/Nightbane: Role-Playing Game," and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Palladium Books Publishing and related entities. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Between the Shadows"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 5 – Monsters

Lanthi grunted in annoyance. Time had almost no meaning here . . . and yet she had spent too much of it, untold hours while the poor spirit of Good suffered. _To him, at least two days have passed now . . ._ She had searched countless halls and identical rooms – torture chambers, every one of them – and had long lost track of exactly where she was in the fortress, not that it mattered. Then, she caught a mystical "whiff" of the energy of one she . . . _should_ have expected, she realized, but was still unhappy to find in this terrible place.

Lanthi listened as black, hard-leather boots sounded down the hall, Torturians scattering from their owner in a mixture of hatred and terror. No Torturian even in his innate insanity of mind crossed a Necrophim on purpose, and few who caught Kamenwati's attention unduly even by accident had lived to regret it. The jet-skinned humanoid strode through the ranks of Astral persecutors with impunity, black-feathered wings fluttering in irritation. He might be serving in this place at the moment, but Lanthi knew that it was not under the same masters as the Torturians and even other Necrophim. Unlike most of his own breed, he answered to a different kind of dark goddess, and found no entertainment in what went on in this place – other than torturing the Torturians. _That_ was a pleasure and, to that end, Lanthi could get him to help her find the one she sought.

A light tap to the back of the shoulder stopped the Necrophim in his tracks, and he whirled, glowing eyes seeking the one who had dared draw his attention this time. Gleaming ruby eyes met hers. She watched him turn again on his heel with a low growl, pacing down the hall into an unoccupied room, knowing that she would follow. Only when the door was safely closed behind him did he turn to address her, who had slid in ahead of him. "Melantha, what in the Nine Hells are you _doing_ here?" he hissed in a low voice, gripping the front of her body armor in both black-gloved fists. He hooded his wings forward over his shoulders to block her from recognition should anyone enter unexpectedly.

"I need to find a particular Torturian, Kamen, the one named Lilia. Now." Time was rapidly running out if she hoped to steal the poor soul before he was returned to the monster.

Kamenwati let go, stepping back. "I know her. What do you want with her?" His tone was not protective, merely inquiring. In fact, Lanthi knew this one well enough to read the secreted disgust under the nonchalance of his tone.

Lanthi shrugged. "I want her dead . . . but first, I need to rescue someone that she's playing with at the moment."

"Hn. And what makes this poor accursed wretch any different from the countless other souls in this black hole of a domain?"

"Innocence."

8 8 8 8 8

Kamen stared at her for a long moment, thinking about the absurd response – and how like her it was to be concerned with such a triviality. He snorted. She had been raised to be a warrior, not a sentimentalist. He should know – he was one of those who had trained her. "That means nothing here. You know that." He was not going to jeopardize his undercover position unless she had a better answer. Too many others here suffered for similar "crimes."

Melantha shook her head. "No, you misunderstand. _True _Innocence, a pure soul caught in a trap, held for ransom to bind another to a monster's will, and the one bound belongs to Grandmother, and is being punished through the pure one for spite's sake and to ensure obedience."

Kamen rolled his eyes, even as he knew that his callous demeanor likely would not fool her. "And I should care about this claimed of Ratri why?"

"I didn't say that you should care. Just walk by where Lilia is, and I shall take care of the rest – unless you want to have some fun, too."

Kamen grinned. "Lilia can be an amusing toy on occasion. All right, then. I know where her room is. Come." He grasped the door handle, waiting until Melantha had melted away into the shadows under his wings before pulling it open.

Down the hall, up two flights of stairs, along a narrow corridor – he strode with unerring purpose until drawing up to one door among the many along the wall, throwing it open without bothering to knock. The Torturian female had just undone the last clasp supporting her limp victim, gathering the small human into her arms. The boy moaned, shifting miserably, his body a mass of blood, gashes, burns and angry welts.

8 8 8 8 8

Lanthi shifted from Kamen as soon as the door was open, taking to the shadow of a nearby corner. She watched Lilia turn, in a hurry and ready to shriek at the intruder who might make her late, her milky face paling further as her eyes found the Necrophim. "M-master Kamenwati." She clutched the body close, glancing past him out the door.

Lanthi cursed. _Time is up already?_

Kamen favored her with a cold smile. "New toy, my dear? I don't think I've seen him around here before."

Lilia tried to act nonchalant although, were she capable of it, sweat beading her brow would have betrayed her, Lanthi thought. The Torturian shook her head. "Oh, n-no, no, Master. Common toy, a loan from an acquaintance on Earth. One that he's wanting back . . . right about now, as a matter of fact." She looked ready to bolt.

"I'm sure your acquaintance can wait a little while longer."

Lilia shuddered as the cold smile grew larger, a distinct hunger in Kamen's eyes. Lanthi swallowed a snicker at the Torturian's discomfort, knowing they were delaying her from keeping her appointment with Anghrist.

"_S-soredake . . . o-oneg-gaishim-masu . ._ . " the boy stammered in half-conscious terror and pain.

Lanthi frowned. _No more, please . . ._ Japanese was another language her tutors had insisted she master, due to the history of the artifacts they would later send her to seek.

"Nononononono . . . Master will, ah, h-have to take that up with . . . with this one's master. Lilia really must go now. No time! Bye!" Lilia managed to slip past the Necrophim and out into the corridor, disappearing down and around a corner.

8 8 8 8 8

Kamen stepped back from Lilia as she bolted past him, taken off-guard by the unexpected behavior . . . then whirled with a snarl. No Torturian could be allowed to get away with such blatant disobedience. He started after her even as a soft voice whispered in his ear.

"She's more afraid of _him_ than she is of you. You saw the one that she bears in her arms. The one who belongs to Grandmother could be his twin. They are who I seek to steal and put back where they belong."

Kamen slowed to a stop, murmuring under his breath so that only Melantha heard him. "Then follow him back to his master. I will deal with Lilia when she returns."

"Hold that thought? I'd like to watch!" Melantha teased even as Kamen felt a slight hug of gratitude under his wings before she pulled out and into the shadows of the hallway.

Kamen shook his head in ill-concealed affection. "Go, little one, before others discover your presence here." Laughter echoed around him, and he was once again alone in this house of horrors.

8 8 8 8 8

Lanthi tried to catch up, but that moment's pause with Kamen had cost her – again. _No_, she scowled, _cost _him_, the Innocent_. There was no way she would be able to catch up now before Lilia returned to Anghrist, but she was not about to let this go, either. _There must be _something_ I can do for him!_ She could not extract him from the silver liquid . . . _Ah! but if he were asleep . . ._ Yes, there was something she could do, at least to start with. She could reach him through the Dreamstream, and determine from there the next course of action.

She melted deeper into the shadows, teleporting from the fortress's interior to the darkness under an outside windowsill, and dropped to the ground. Diving out through the film bordering the astral domain, she returned to the greater fields of the Inner Plane. A thought, a push of will, and she leaped again, this time tumbling almost playfully through a portal into another reality altogether, suspended in a nothingness of random colors, flashing images, globes of light and countless shifting structures. She paused, realizing that she had little bearing for finding her target. Direction and distance meant even less here in the Dreamstream than in the Astral Plane, the reality of this realm built entirely on the subconscious minds of all intelligent beings. _Oops. Forgot about that . . ._

Placement of Dream Pools, the subconscious constructions of sleeping persons, was determined solely on emotion. One found a person's Dream Pool by acquaintance with the person – greater feelings of connection, be they positive or negative, drew Dream Pools together, while lesser intimacy separated them. Lanthi had not actually met the young man she sought, so he was a stranger. Likely, his Dream Pool was nowhere near her point of entry, not that it mattered necessarily. She could close the ethereal "distance" between herself and his subconscious if she could just latch onto a fragment of it.

Careful not to draw unwanted attention, she unraveled "feelers" of energy, hoping to gain some kind of sense for the boy's "location." It took a bit of searching, but still she picked up a bead on his Pool even sooner than she would have thought. _There! How strange. Did he sense my desire to find him? Grandmother's Items, perhaps? Or is he simply that desperate to _be_ found. Dangerous, that . . . _Lanthi shook her head but, for the moment, it little mattered. The Dream Pool currently stood in the form of the Torturian fortress, in miniature proportions, and she braced before forcing her way through the "door." She stepped in to find, unsurprisingly, what must have been an echo of the horrors visited upon the young Nightspawn in Lilia's chamber. She took a moment first to set up a shield on his Dream Pool so that nothing else could enter unbidden, then turned to take in more fully the scene before her. As she watched him strain in agony against the cruel bonds that held him, she decided to take control of the nightmare.

8 8 8 8 8

Yugi had closed his eyes, trying in vain to deny his torturer his tears and his screams, bracing for the next lash of the barbed whips . . . but they never struck. In fact, everything seemed to cease – the echoing of horrific shrieks all around him, the cracking scourges and other sounds of torture, even the air seemed to warm and lighten, the dark, heavy pall of blood, pain and terror lifting inexplicably. Still, he did not dare to open his eyes, suspecting a trick in the apparent easement of this living nightmare in which he occasionally found himself. He waited, suppressing a whimper of anticipation.

The next touch shocked him. Gentle fingers wiped away the tears, and a feminine voice – one not belonging to Lilia but soft, younger…and sane – asked, "Is this where you wish to be, or may I change the terrain? Let me help you away from this." He felt the chains fall away, his body collapsing into a firm but careful embrace.

He still did not dare open his eyes just yet, could not afford to let down his guard and to trust, but he had been asked a question, and hard experience had taught him that it was best to answer quickly and truthfully, for better or worse. "N-no, I do n-not wish to be here, Mistress." He despised the title, and all that it implied, but that had been another lesson well learned.

A low chuckle escaped her. "I am no one's mistress, least of all yours."

At that, he finally opened his eyes, looking up into a face he had never seen before. She _appeared_ human, though he had learned enough to know not to make assumptions of one's species. The first features to catch his attention were her eyes – blood-red irises in fields of ebony where they should have been white. Her snow-white hair over milky-pale face had been cropped short, a shock of black in the bangs. Though looks alone were no accurate indicator – Yugi knew it better than anyone – the girl appeared to be little older than he was . . . or had been the last he knew his actual age.

She gazed back with some mild surprise of her own. "Oh, you have pretty eyes! Unusual color, even in a Nightspawn." He frowned a little, not quite grasping what she meant. "Now, about that change of scenery . . . Where would you like to be? Picture it. See it – and it will become real for you."

_Yami! Where is Yami?_ Yugi sighed, realizing that he did not know. He thought for a moment of "master" Anghrist's study, but he did not really want to be there and guessed Yami was not there right now anyway. Then, unbidden, his grandfather's shop, the Kame Game Store, came to mind with a shot of longing. "G-grandpa . . . " He had not meant to speak aloud, but the grief that stabbed at him in that moment hurt as much as Lilia's tortures ever did.

The dark, forbidding chamber melted around him, reorganizing, changing color and shape and odor in an instant. The Kame materialized in perfect detail, from the smell of cardboard to the sounds of cars and passersby on the street outside. He even fancied he caught the scent of his mother's cooking wafting in from the kitchen, located in the back of the building.

"Mother?" the girl murmured incredulously, looking at him in speculation.

The pain had vanished with the chamber, his wounds healed as though never inflicted. He looked down to find himself dressed in his rich-sapphire school uniform, the Millennium Puzzle resting on his stomach from the chain around his neck. His hand moved almost of its own accord to grip the cool metal in possession and comfort.

As though bidden by the longing of Yugi's subconscious to see him, his grandfather, Mutou Sugoroku, rounded the corner just then from the stockroom to double-check on the inventory of one of the games in the display case below the cash register before retreating once again, taking no notice of the two crouched on his floor. Yugi almost laughed to see him, dressed in his usual worn denim overalls and sneakers, a dark gray scarf tied over the crown of his head to keep his unruly hair down.

"And he still knows how to smile," the girl commented, humor in her tones.

Yugi was not sure if she meant him or Grandpa, but the comment brought his attention back to her. "W-who are you? And where are we _really_?"

"As to where we are, we are in the Dreamstream – in your Dream Pool, to be specific."

"Dream . . . 'pool' . . . ?" He shifted to sit up, pulling himself out of her arms. She let go, helping him up. "I'm afraid I don't know what that is." Now with a bit of distance between them, Yugi could get a better look at her attire – a black leather, reinforced catsuit with daggers in sheaths worked into several seams. He thought that it had a distinctly Egyptian flair, if fancifully stylized in design – and perfectly functional in form.

"Very few people do. Even fewer know how to do what I am doing. It was you who created this construct in your Dream Pool. I just kind of assisted. This way, I can find out how best to help you out of your . . . peculiar situation." She paused, glancing after the old man, before looking at him again with that expression of conjecture. "You had a family. That means you weren't _born_ a Nightspawn, and that makes you unique, because how did you become one? Nightspawn are never born of parents they can remember. They seem to just . . . come into being."

"A . . . a Nightspawn? I don't know what that is . . . and . . . you've not answered my other question." Yugi pulled to his feet and shifted away, one hand still gripping the chain of the Puzzle as though to prevent her from taking it.

She raised placating hands. "I have no intentions of trying to separate you from your treasure." Her choice of words struck him, and he stopped backing from her, for the moment. "It very clearly is yours. I can sense it. It _belongs_ with you and no one else."

"You can 'sense'?" Yugi sighed and leaned against the counter, taking comfort in its familiar shape and texture behind him.

"I have many talents, and my task is to make things right or report them to those who can."

"What do you know of me? And how did you find me? Who are you?" Too many questions swam in his mind, but he felt these were the most immediate. He watched a flash of mischief cross her eyes and braced, not sure how to take that after recent . . . experiences.

"I know what I have observed: that you're being held very much against your will. You are a spirit somehow separated from your body – must have been through very powerful magic. There is another spirit that resides in what appears to be a soul receptacle, which I have not explored yet but in outer appearance matches that pendent of yours." There was more that she was not saying, more knowledge she was not divulging – Yugi could see it in her alien eyes – but that would wait for now. "I suspect that the one who holds you and the other spirit does so by knowledge of the other's true name. There is another Nightspawn who was just brought in and assigned to your fellow spirit as a partner in whatever onerous tasks he is forced to perform. I know that you are basically the leverage to force obedience out of the other spirit and that he is willing to sacrifice himself for you – in fact, has been doing just that for . . . decades now. I suspect that you have been kept asleep in the interim to keep you from going insane, because having a soul separated from its body for that long would do just that. They only bring you out to punish him and keep him in line."

_To punish him . ._ . Yugi's fists clenched at his sides. So far, she has spoken truly, in as much as he himself knew.

Decades . . . It had been decades that he had been floating in his magically-induced coma, and decades that Yami had been suffering in his cruel slavery. Yugi's eyes closed for a moment as he fought back tears.

Quietly, the girl continued speaking. "I followed you from your master's lair to the Torturian's stronghold on the Astral Plane, where I lost track of you, so I decided to try the Dreamstream. And that is what I know for certain, unless you would be willing to teach me more. The more I know, the better I can help. As for my name, I cannot give that to you. I am known simply as Melantha, or Lanthi, to those that know of me at all."

Yugi swallowed, forcing back the storm of thoughts and emotions swirling through him. Opening his eyes, he met her gaze and offered a proper bow after the etiquette of his culture. "My name is Mutou Yugi. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lanthi-kun."

"So innocent," she sighed with a shake of her head. He frowned a bit, silently questioning the reason for her comment. She held his eye, the expression willing him to take heed. "You must never, under any circumstances, give your true name to anyone you would not trust with your life and soul." He gasped at that, stricken by the conviction in her words. Being essentially in his mind as she was, he felt the emotion behind her comment jolt through him. "You must come up with another name for me to call you."

"Well, I-I don't have any other names." No, that was not entirely true. There was one name, a nickname, but only one person called him that, and that was precious to him.

Catching the thought, she smiled. "Then, if you will not name yourself, perhaps you will let me gift you with one." She thought for a moment, and her grin widened. "Of course . . . Elne. It means 'courage.' Now, as to why I wish to help you, you are one of us. Allow me to show you. Reach out and sense me."

"I . . . eh, I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about . . . " He resisted the urge to start backing from her again, more than a little freaked by being claimed as "one of us" when he still did not know what _she_ was.

"I am not a Nightspawn. That you would be able to sense immediately. However, what you carry within or about you is not completely unique." With that, he watched in fascination as she raised one hand, and a tendril of purple-black energy reached lazily for him. The Shadows? She could wield the Shadows?

Yugi gulped but let the tendril touch him, figuring that if she really wanted to use it, there was a very good chance he could not have escaped her anyway. The tip brushed the back of his hand, cool and misty. The sensation was hauntingly familiar – far more so even than he would have thought, even after time past spent in Duels and Shadow Games – and something deep within him reacted to its presence.

"Within you, there is another form, another shape you can assume."

Yugi was shaking his head, even as something in her words rang of undeniable truth. "N-no, there isn't . . . I'm not the one with the Shadow powers. That's Ya – " He caught himself, remembering not to use true names. But . . . that was not his other self's true name. "That's Yami. I-I think you have the wrong one of us . . . " His voice trailed off with a gasp at dark energies he could feel welling up inside of him.

The tendril of darkness snaked around his hand in a friendly caress. "No, I do not. Come out, little brother, and let me greet you properly." Yugi still shook his head in denial even as he fought back down the rising Shadows within him. She tilted her head, regarding him. "Think back to the time when you were taken. Did something happen? Did you fight? And did something come forth that you did not know was there before, one that was stronger and could fight back better?"

Yugi's voice came out a barely audible whisper. "D-dark Magician . . . "

Yes, there had been a fight. Something had restrained Yami, and he could not access the Shadow powers of the Puzzle. He could not even step beyond the boundary of the carven circle in the stone floor – but Yugi could. Yugi knew he could not win, not against such adversaries. This was not a Duel. He could not bring their Deck into play, but neither could he just stand still while they held his other heart hostage by whatever magics were in their employment. The fight that erupted had nearly cost his life and in vain, but then something had happened –

Yugi gasped. Something _had_ happened! He had felt his body shift and change, and suddenly he was taller and dressed differently. He was dressed like the Dark Magician! And he had been able to fight like a trained fighter, though he had no clue how _that_ had happened. He had even been able to use Dark Magician's special ability, the "Black Magic Attack" . . .

Yugi stopped, realizing with a start that he stood looking _down_ at Lanthi as he had not been a moment ago, who gazed up in return with a warm, knowing grin on her face. He had gained almost twice his normal height, dressed in the two-tone-purple robes and cowl with which he was so familiar…if not from this vantage. He looked down at his hands, and then the floor . . . further away than he was accustomed to! He leaned back on the counter, finding the support down across the backs of his legs rather than his shoulder blades. "_W-whoa_ . . . "

"See?" Lanthi chuckled. "I knew you had it in you. Now, we need to train you." She put one hand on her hip, asking in a cheeky tone, "Are you ready to become a true warrior?" There was an undeniable tone of seriousness to her voice, belying the humor designed to take the shock from her question.

Yugi thought about his closest friend, his other heart, and the vicious slavery under which he had suffered for too long. If this girl's words were truth, then finally, maybe, Yugi would be able to help. He steadied his nerves at the thought of what may lay ahead, meeting her gaze with quiet courage. "What do I do?"

"Train with me. We will worry about training your physical body once we have reunited it with your spirit. For now, train your mind and your soul." She grinned suddenly. "However, first, as soon as I can arrange it, let me take you to see _him_. He must be asleep for me to approach him thus, but since you are in almost perpetual sleep, it will be easy for me to draw you in _to_ him."

"Him?" Yugi was unsure whom she might mean but, as her words sank in, he caught his breath, hardly daring to hope. His knees went weak, and he sat on the counter, heedless of the possibility that his new weight might shatter the glass of the display case. One phrase escaped his lips, even as a tear escaped down his cheek.

"Other-Me . . . "

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!


	6. Chapter 6 Lost Boys

Shorter Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. "Rifts: Role-Playing Game," "Nightspawn/Nightbane: Role-Playing Game," and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Palladium Books Publishing and related entities. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Between the Shadows"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 6 – Lost Boys

_And I had thought the day could not _get_ any worse. Chh._

Yami sighed, settling himself in his soul room deep in the energies of the Millennium Puzzle to wait and meditate until Anghrist called upon him again. Pur-n'kln had curled up for a catnap outside on the floor at the corner of Anghrist's desk nearest the Puzzle's stand. The morning pickup had been one agitation, but the fiasco in Tolkeen had been a near disaster. Coalition forces had spotted Bleidd's convoy on the way in and tailed them, intercepting the radio communications between vehicles and discovering their intent. They had set up an ambush that nearly cost the convoy half its personnel, the cargo, and the deal with the underground military hiding in the city. In spite of himself, Yami smirked. The situation had begun to go awry long before he and Pur-n'kln arrived on the scene. Disciplinary action for this one would fall on other shoulders. That was one thing Yami could appreciate about his master, marginally – Anghrist was a fair man for the most part, if cruel and harsh, rarely punishing where it was not warranted. At least Yami could say he had never suffered simply because Anghrist needed a scapegoat or an outlet for stress.

Still, he found himself exhausted in mind and soul from the day's occurrences and, no matter how he fought it, dreading the nightmares to follow, he knew he would have to succumb to sleep, and soon. He was not a physically living being any more, but he _was_ a sentient one, with a psyche that needed the same rest. With reluctance, he let go, fully surrendering the cohesiveness of his pattern into the greater energies of the mystical substance, the Darkness, that sustained him.

No nightmare engulfed him but rather a strange sense of comfort. He was startled to find himself in his soul room, standing at the door onto the hallway that led outward. Was he dreaming or still awake? He could not tell, but there was one way to find out. His hand grasped the knob, twisted, and pulled. He startled a second time in as many minutes, facing a wall a few feet away where there shouldn't be one, with a door that had not been present for too, too long. _All right, so I _am_ dreaming_, Yami thought, a stab of wistfulness cutting across his logic. Then, the sound hit him, skittering forth from the other side of the door-that-should-not-be. It was laughter – joyful, young . . . and female.

_Dreaming . . . or insane_, he corrected, a wry grin curving his lips. _All right, I'll play along for now_. Crossing the space of the hallway in two, worn-booted strides, he set his hand to the doorknob, then hesitated. Should he knock? He shook his head with an exasperated huff at himself. This was _his_ dream, after all, and not really Yugi's soul room, as much as he wanted to let himself believe otherwise. Tightening his grip, he twisted and pushed.

He stopped at the sight of a spinning top dancing in playful circles, trailing dust devils from a faint path across an unswept floor. Raising his eyes from the blur of motion that had first captured his attention, he took in the sight of the rest of the room. Games, puzzles, stuffed animals, and other toys of every description littered the floor of the brightly-lit room, a delicate layer of fine, gray dust muting the cheery yellow of the tiles. In the midst of the joyful chaos sat a young woman knelt on her heels, a girl in her mid- to late teens, the string from the dancing top dangling from one hand. The being was a strange mix of child and warrior, dressed in body armor and black leathers, the snowy hair cropped extraordinarily short. Youthful amusement danced in eyes the likes of which he had never seen. _Hn, and I thought Donovan's eyes were strange_. Even as he took in the sight of her, however, a jolt of ecstatic joy and excitement – someone else's emotion – washed through him, as achingly familiar as it was unexpected. It felt like it might have come from his left, but it was muted and diffused, as though leaking through the cracks of a seal.

He danced back in pure surprise as the spinning top changed direction without warning, making an unerring beeline for the door. It skipped up over the toe of one worn boot, then paused just outside in the hallway. As he watched, it grew, expanded, blurring and coalescing once more into a shape he knew from mirrors when he could fully materialize. He gazed into eyes the same rich, dark amethyst as his own. His widened in shock even as a smirk of mischief played across those of his copy. The doppelganger gave a jaunty salute and strode off down the darkened hallway, quickly lost from sight in the impenetrable shadows. Yami leaned out the door, staring in spite of himself. _What in the name of – ?_

The girl cocked her head at him, her voice capturing his astonished attention. "Well . . . in or out. Either way, close the door. I don't have the hang of this yet, and the next one might get out, too. No call to have a bunch of these things wandering around loose in your mind." As she spoke, another top materialized in her hand, and she began winding the string. Faint, bright laughter echoed on the edges of perception in response to her words.

Yami realized the indignity of his expression in that moment, his jaw snapping shut. He might have been dreaming, but his supernatural senses told him that this entity was quite real. "Who are you? Scratch that – _what_ are you? And how did you get in here? And what was _that_?" He gestured down the hall, then stepped in, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Has it been so long since you've seen a girl? Damn, you _really_ need to get out more." The tone was that of an exasperated teenager to a "dumb" adult. Yami managed to school his expression into neutrality, but he could not squelch the knee-jerk indignation that he knew she must have sensed. She shrugged with a grin. "As far as how I got in here, I had a key, of course. Would you like to see it?" Pure, ornery mischief shone in her alien eyes.

Yami scowled. He never had managed to teach himself to close his mind from invasion, not back when he faced Pegasus ages ago, and especially not against Anghrist these days. _And now this . . . girl speaks of a key?_ "What are you talking about? What key?"

Laughter danced in her voice as she turned to an oversized jack-in-the-box in the corner on his left. "You might as well come out now. He knows we're here." With that, she returned her attention fully to the wound top in her hands, as though granting him a modicum of privacy.

_We?_ Yami shifted in alarm, even as the lid popped open. With it, he felt a seal break, and a wave of powerful emotions swept forth. Excitement, mischief, joy, love, trust, longing, faith, innocence – these and infinitely more washed over and around the spirit, the sensations of a beloved presence he had not known so intimately in decades. For the first time in long years of combat and harsh discipline, something came straight at him, as if in attack, and he did not brace nor try to defend at all but rather found himself welcoming it with open arms even before he was fully cognizant of its identity. "Wha – h-_how_ . . . !"

A slightly smaller boy threw his arms around Yami, the embrace tight as though he would never let go, face buried into the spirit's shoulder as tears dampened the ragged tunic. Yami stood for just a moment, numb with shock, before his legs gave out on him. He slipped to his knees, the other following readily. "Oh, gods . . . " He buried his face into soft, tri-colored hair, drinking in the scent of the essence in his arms. No, it was real. _He_ was real. The raw, unbridled trust, innocence and love, the impossible mix of child-like playfulness and experienced maturity – not in all of eternity could anyone successfully counterfeit this one's essence, not to Yami-no-Yugi. He _knew_, his heart-weary soul remembering with every fiber of its makeup even though he had been denied the sensation of this one's direct presence and support for too, too long. "A-ai . . . bou . ._ ._ " Yami's voice broke with sobs as he held his closest friend, his little brother, his heart.

"Gods . . . Other-Me . . . " Cotton-muffled sobs responded as Yugi buried even deeper against Yami's chest.

A contented sigh pulled part of Yami's attention back away from Yugi, who shuddered in his arms with his own storm of emotions. He dragged himself out of Yugi's hair to look. The unknown girl had shifted to put her back to them, further affording them privacy in this long-overdue reunion. She seemed to be drawing in the dust of the opposite corner, humming softly to herself.

Yami shook his head, deciding that whoever-she-was could wait just a moment longer. The sight from only hours ago of Lilia with Yugi in her clutches – again – haunted him suddenly, jolting through him with a shiver of reaction that made Yugi look up in concern. "Aibou, are you all right? Are you . . . hurt?" He swallowed back bitter anguish as he searched those bright, amethyst eyes for any trace of pain or horror.

Tears still falling unheeded down his cheeks, Yugi shook his head as he stared in shock. "Me? Never mind me! Yami – "

His _aibou_'s bright eyes searched his in return, and Yami realized, _No . . . oh, gods, he knows. How much does he know?_ Anger, shame, and wretchedness burned through him, but then love, comfort, and understanding soothed the hurt away as Yugi frowned at him with a small shake of his head.

"Other-Me, no! Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault, Nakama. He hasn't given you a choice! You've done everything you could. I _know_ you have! But he's powerful . . . too powerful even for us, I'm afraid . . . " Yugi's eyes fell away from his. "I'm sorry, Other-Me. I know he uses me against you, to make . . . t-to force you . . . "

Yami pulled him back in, comforting and strengthening on his turn. "Shh. It's all right, Aibou. I-it's – " Tears choked off the rest of his words, and he relented, content to lose himself for a moment in the presence of his Light, basking in the feeling of completeness of his dark self.

A growing taint of magic once again drew Yami's attention to the unknown girl in the corner. Wariness and protective stiffening welled up in him, but Yugi's tightening grip on his arm stayed him. "Other-Me, no! It's all right. She's setting up a ward so no one and nothing else can get in here. Her name is Lanthi. She's the one who brought me here, by combining our Dream Pools."

"Our . . . ?" Something in the way of understanding tickled at the back of Yami's mind, but then it was gone. He shook his head, turning to the girl with his senses backed down to Yellow Alert, the mental claxons quieted by Yugi's certainty. "Lanthi, is it?"

The girl half-turned to hold up a "please-wait" finger as she finished her incantation. Yami followed the sensation of what she was doing, felt it when she completed the spell. At that, she turned around and leaned her chin on her fist, the elbow on her knee. "Who, me?" Mischief danced behind mock-innocence in her gaze as she studied the two, but then she turned serious. "Either you gave it to him or he has otherwise discovered it, but your master knows your true name. Thus he holds you prisoner. You have been _bound_."

Yami felt Yugi's hold tighten reflexively even as he himself rocked back from her words. Yugi turned to glare at her. "Lanthi-kun, was that necessary – ?"

"Aibou . . . " Yami's voice, soft and strained, made Yugi flinch with the pain he must have heard as he shifted to look back up at him. "It's all right, Aibou. Her words are true, after all." He turned to meet her red-and-black gaze with a tired, rueful grin. "'Otherwise discovered'. I have not given it to him. I _could_ not have . . . because I do not know it myself."

"Then we have a serious problem."

Yami frowned at that. "'We'?" He resisted the urge to shift Yugi behind himself protectively.

"Grandmother is going to be _seriously_ miffed. Hm . . . well, while we're on the subject of names, you should know that I have named him Elne, 'Courage.' Let me name you Asliraf, 'Honor,' for that is your true nature – and although it has been artificially bent, I have seen that it has not yet been broken, no matter _what_ he has done to you."

Yami could not quite suppress a shudder, eyes falling from hers, wondering at the validity of her assertion. He certainly questioned it at times. After a brief pause, he shook his head, suddenly not able to face Yugi either for a moment. "I . . . think 'Yami' suits me just fine, but thank you." He could feel Yugi's gaze on him, concerned and even grieving.

She paused in turn, and gave a nod, then she studied them both in deep concentration for a moment. Then, her dark eyes narrowed with confidence, and she nodded to herself. "You _are_ the Lost Ones. I'm sure of it."

"Lost Ones?" the two queried in unison.

"Well, perhaps 'lost' is not quite the right term, but you are seriously misplaced."

"What makes you say that?" Yami asked in guarded wariness. "What do you know?"

"That we are going to need a very powerful mage to undo what has been done to you, for one. And I suspect, for another, that he – " She nodded at Yugi. " – has been tampered with, irrevocably altered."

Alarm shot through Yami at her words, and he turned to search Yugi's gaze for the truth.

Yugi shrugged, at a loss to say one way or the other. "She says I've become something called a Nightspawn. I can take another form that looks just like the Dark Magician. She says it's called my Morphus, as opposed to my human body which is called Façade. I have Dark Magician's 'Black Magic Attack,' which she calls a Shadow Blast, and who-knows-what other abilities. She's going to teach me how to use them so I can help you break free of that Anghrist's hold." It was unusual for Yugi to drop an honorific, but Yami knew Yugi's heart – his _aibou_ would not honor their master that way.

Yami groaned in suppressed horror. "Oh, Aibou, what did he do to you?"

"No, Elne," Lanthi gently admonished at the same time, shaking her head. "Shadow magic will not break his chains. That will require an altogether different kind of magic."

"What kind?" Yugi wanted to know.

Yami pulled a deep breath. "Anghrist has a pendent he keeps on his person at all times, a talisman with my name inscribed on the back, within a circle of mystic runes. It is by that as much as anything that he holds me. How he could have come upon the knowledge, though, I cannot fathom." He turned to Lanthi. "That knowledge, along with many other things, was locked away from me . . . long and long ago."

Lanthi's head cocked to the side again. "How long ago?"

"To the best of my understanding . . . almost four thousand years."

Yugi nodded sheepishly. "Yami's been around for a really long time, though he was asleep for most of it."

"Only four thousand years," she commented with a shrug. "Eh, four thousand _Earth_ years?"

Yugi choked, but Yami had an idea what she might mean. "Yes, four thousand years as reckoned on Earth."

"Ah. That would be about the time of the Shadow Games era, give or take a few hundred years . . . the Shadow Games – " She met Yami's eye with growing certainty. " – and the Pharaoh who sealed them."

Yami straightened bolt upright. "What do you know of . . . of that?"

"Quite a bit, actually. The Shadow Games began in Pharaonic Egypt some time in the Twenty-First Dynasty . . . " Lanthi's voice had taken a school-girl-recital tone, but then she lost them entirely as she slipped into a language neither of them knew – though there was an inexplicable familiarity to the sounds as they struck muted chords in Yami's mind. Their blank expressions stopped her mid-sentence. "You don't speak Egyptian, do you?"

"Oh." Yugi grinned weakly. "Is that what that was?"

"I . . . would have at one time, but that knowledge has been lost to me." _Along with much, much more_, Yami growled in silent frustration.

Lanthi eyed them, then let out a long-suffering sigh. "All right, then, let me start over. The Shadow Games began in Pharaonic Egypt some time in the Twenty-First Dynasty. The power reached its zenith the first time in the creation of seven artifacts, the Millennium Items, which in turned paved the way for the release of a powerful force of diabolic evil, a fact unbeknownst to the pharaoh who authorized their creation, seeking peace for his beleaguered kingdom through magical means when mortal might could not ensure it. That evil did get released, threatening to cover the ancient world in its darkness, until the pharaoh's son – himself in power at the time – managed to defeat it, sacrificing his life in the process. Knowledge of this ancient struggle has been long lost to mortals, but the gods still honor his memory."

"The gods! Other-Me . . . " Yugi turned to stare at him, wide-eyed.

Yami gazed back at Lanthi, managing to control the trembling her words had instilled in him, but he could not suppress the goosebumps that rose along both arms, and found himself rubbing to disperse them. Pulling another breath, he prompted, "You said that was the 'first' time. There have been others?"

"The second awakening was triggered by mortals' arrogant use of technology and unknowing tampering into Shadow magic. The Millennium Items resurfaced once more about six hundred years ago." She was watching him closely, but her fingers had begun to drum against her leg in childish excitement. As though realizing that Yami had noticed, she clasped her hands together in what he thought of as firm determination to contain herself. Still, she seemed to be silently begging him to prove her right.

A hand on Yugi's arm stayed any surreptitious comments. "Go on," Yami prompted in as neutral a tone as he could muster.

"That awakening lasted only two short years. A direct descendent, never mind the generations removed, came into possession of one of the Items – the most powerful – and reassembled it, waking the young pharaoh's soul to walk the Earth once more and sending ripples throughout the Shadow Realm. Once again, the Millennium Items were drawn together for the purpose of returning to the Nameless Pharaoh knowledge of his past, his memories, his very name and sense of self." By now, she was watching Yami very carefully, empathy shining in her alien eyes. "However, at the very instant this was to occur, the pattern of energies involved sprung a trap that had been set and, once again, the Nameless Pharaoh and the Millennium Puzzle, along with its living bearer, were lost to history."

"Only to resurface in your lifetime . . . " Yami was unsure how to take this young woman or her knowledge of him, teachings like a child's school lesson in mythology, and he wondered who had passed them on to her.

"And, as inevitably as the tide lapping at the shore, where the Millennium Puzzle resurfaces, the others will be drawn to. It is already beginning. And perhaps that is the intent? Whoever holds the power of the Pharaoh will draw the others to him."

"Such . . . has been my suspicion, yes." Yami nodded numbly.

"Eh . . . you said 'direct descendent' of the pharaoh . . . ?" Yugi ventured in a soft, tentative voice, glancing at Yami.

"The young pharaoh had sent his wife and children away into safety – which would prove to be exile. At least one of those children survived to continue the bloodline until the proper time for the reawakening." With tongue-in-cheek mischief, she cocked her head at them and snickered. "These things don't happen by accident, you know."

Yugi just blinked at her, at a loss for words.

Yami shook his head, overcoming his own stunned shock to query, "How do you know all this?"

Lanthi shrugged with a nonchalant air. "Well, usually when you're schooled by a goddess of the Nile, you learn things not normally available to most."

"Goddess of the Nile?" Yugi gasped. "Who? Really! But – ?"

"Yeah, really!" she replied with a laugh. "It is prudent to call her 'She of Countless Names' because she has so many throughout the Megaverse." She pointed at Yami. "You would have called her Aset, which means 'She of the Throne,' though history better remembers her by the Greek form of her name, Isis. She and Grandmother are best friends."

Yami studied her, this seeming child both playful and knowledgeable. He shook his head, arms folding across his chest. In a bit of mischief of his own while still wanting a truthful and relevant answer, he commented, "I must ask again – what are you? Heh, and I do not mean your gender."

She hesitated a long moment, face screwed up in thought, as though she debated telling him and getting in trouble with whatever power to whom it was she answered. Mischief seemed to win over. She shrugged as though to say, how bad could it be? "Were this any place else, did it taste any differently than what it does, I would not do this . . . but it is, after all, just a dream, right?" She stood. Yami followed suit, helping his _aibou_ to his feet with him. She held her hands at her sides, palms open and forward. "Know me. Taste my essence, and understand." With that, psionic and magical shields dropped, the full force of her aura slamming them both with power.

Yami reeled, reflexively pulling Yugi behind him and throwing up a shield of his own. Whatever she had done, he felt he could take, but he would not risk his _aibou_. What he sensed, what he realized, left him gasping in shock.

Pure, raw, untamed Shadow power – he _knew_ this sensation. It was like a Duel Monsters beast, but more – fully sentient, living, breathing, a creature of the Shadow Realm itself standing before him. Then, just as suddenly as it struck, the presence was gone, and Yami staggered forward a step before catching himself, as though he had been bracing against the force of her aura. She gave them a reassuring grin. "You are both 'of Us,' and We take care of Our Own. You are no longer alone in this, either of you, for you are no longer Lost – and _I'm_ the one who found you!" She was clearly pleased with herself.

Yami gave Yugi a mental glimpse at what he had experienced as he dropped the shield he had erected. Yugi gasped in his own shock before recovering his wits. "Eh . . . a-all right . . . so, what next, then?"

"Get you away from Anghrist," Yami insisted, one hand still gripped protectively on his _aibou_'s arm.

"But – " Yugi protested, and Yami knew that it was he whom Yugi felt needed the rescue more immediately.

"As in anything, plans must be made, and _you – _" Lanthi frowned at Yami. " – can only be told so much."

Yugi began to react to the insinuation that Yami could not be trusted but, once again, the gentle touch on his arm quieted his protest. Yami shook his head. "No . . . she's right." Yami met his gaze as Yugi looked up in empathetic hurt at the weary frustration in his voice. "Anghrist has my name, Aibou. Through it, h-he . . . _controls_ me, mind and spirit, and there is nothing I can hide from him. I could – and would – be made to betray you, if he had inclination to search my mind for this conversation or any other knowledge I possess." His hands had dropped to white-knuckled fists at his sides, but he could not deny that truth no matter how much he despised it.

"In your sleeping mind," Lanthi said softly, "you wander your mental halls searching for something, something that has been lost. You open door after door, and it is not there. When you leave this room, your doppelganger will be waiting for you. The dream you will remember is what he passes to you – the memory of searching your soul fruitlessly – and your knowledge will be passed to him as he returns to this place. This is what I can do for you. In such manner, this visit and future ones – and there _will_ be future visits – can and will be hidden from your consciousness. This is but a dream, after all, and dreams are not always properly remembered upon awakening. This is not fool-proof, of course, as the knowledge will still exist in your mind, but your enemy will be less apt to dig too deeply when you can honestly say that you don't know, that you cannot remember." She grinned at him, head tilting. "And who can control what one dreams, after all?"

Yami grinned at her in return. He now knew what she was. He did not know where it came from, but that place in his locked mind from which stray wisps of memory and knowledge sometimes leaked. "A Dream Dancer."

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!

_**Nakama**_ – "Buddy." If only for my own sake, this is a nickname Yugi has given Yami (_not_ canon ^_^). His full (canon) name for Yami is "Mou Hitori no Boku" – "the Other Me" or "My Other Self" . . . but that's too long to write over and over in a fanfic, ne? Plus, it just seems to me that Yugi would respond to having a nickname by giving one in return, something personal just between the two of them.

The information on Isis's name is from research on Ancient Egypt.


	7. Chapter 7 Milk Run

Shorter Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. "Rifts: Role-Playing Game," "Nightspawn/Nightbane: Role-Playing Game," and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Palladium Books Publishing and related entities. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Between the Shadows"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 7 – Milk Run

"/_Spooky, Furby, . . . . . . !_/"

Yami spared a glance to his right, eyes finding one of his teammates, though it was nearly impossible to tell which one in the environmentally-sealed armors. From the voice, he thought it was Sanders. Yami recognized the first two words – his handle and the one the men had given Pur-n'kln, a bastardized short form of "Furball" – but he did not know the words in the American-language command and cursed that enforced ignorance once again.

Pur-n'kln understood. He glanced behind them, then yelped, "Spooky, down!" He ignored the SAMAS powered armor he and Yami had been fighting to try to tackle the tangible spirit out of the way of a stray shot from one of the massive rail guns of a toppling Spider-Skull Walker, a thirty-foot-tall Coalition vehicle built to look like a great black skull on insect-like legs, with a pair of cannons mounted to what would be the cheekbones. The shot took out the SAMAS, an eight-foot robotic assault suit also painted black with a death's-head design to the helmet that matched the ATV walker, a motif seen on all forms of armor and vehicles built by the Coalition States. There was a reason Coalition soldiers were nicknamed "Dead Boys."

Two days after the mission in Tolkeen saw Commander Bleidd's elite mercenary squad in action once again, though this was merely a training run, a simple mission to retrieve something planted within CS territory that would allow the team's two specialist decoy-scouts to get a better feel for each other's capabilities, their strengths and weaknesses. At their master's command, Yami and Pur-n'kln had spoken at length, sharing with one another and discussing strategies, and now Anghrist had felt it time to put them to the test.

At the moment, Yugi's body had the Millennium Puzzle back at Hell Hole, Yami had the ability to manifest solidly, and Pur-n'kln had a partner who could be severely injured by the incoming rail fire. Or so he had apparently thought.

Pur-n'kln rolled farther than he had anticipated – Yami could tell from the instant of surprise in the creature's feline eyes – as he went _through_ Yami rather than have his momentum slowed by hitting a mass. On reflex, Yami had gone de-solid as a way of dodging both the shot and the unexpected "attack." "Sorry, Furball!" he called over his shoulder as he re-solidified, turning Shadow-forged khopesh swords on a pair of Dog Boys bearing down on him. Though the team's regulation was to use only codenames while out on missions, he refused to call his teammate by a moniker he vaguely remembered associating with an annoying American toy from centuries ago.

The forming of Shadow-swords was but one ability he had discovered – or rather, he supposed, "rediscovered" – since finding himself in Anghrist's service. As with Yami's true name, Anghrist had proven to know quite a bit about his slave. He had called Yami a Shadow mage, and prodded him in the early years of his enslavement to re-teach himself some of those spells and powers Anghrist claimed that he had once mastered. With Anghrist's guidance, Yami had found him to be right. In the case of the "swords," Yami could shape them to mimic most any style of blade, but he found he was most comfortable with the Ancient Egyptian khopesh, which made sense to him. His conscious mind did not remember the blade, but his subconscious, as well as what passed for bio-electrical muscle-and-nerve memory within his energy pattern, did. He found that he was actually quite a skilled melee fighter, which was something he had never really considered, let alone explored, in his brief years in Japan, and he could fight equally well with a single or paired weapons.

Or with sword-and-shield, as he cancelled one sword and formed a barrier of solidified Shadows that "strapped" itself to his forearm just in time to take the brunt of one Dog Boy's energy rifle shot. Yami retaliated, the remaining khopesh slicing off the muzzle and part of the body. The elkhound-based mutant managed to throw the weapon away from himself before it exploded, pulling a pair of vibro-knives in its place. His companion had a vibro-mace and nasty knuckle-spikes.

"Not a problem," Pur-n'kln grunted in response to the apology as he rolled back to his feet without missing a beat and launched himself into the midst of the rest of the Dog Pack, four more canid mutants in matching Dead Boy heavy body armor minus helms. Sensing a form of Shadow energy that was not his own, Yami managed to spare half an eye from his own fight to watch Pur-n'kln's body blur into a number of afterimages, so that it was impossible to tell which outline was the real opponent. Then, with inhuman speed and deadly precision, the were-creature proceeded to take down the mutant mutts while, among the four, they only managed to score one hit in ten on him, more often than not targeting an illusion.

Yami himself took a little longer to fell his opponents, but his unusually short stature – he was a full foot under their height – coupled with his martial prowess gave him all the advantage he needed against these comparatively clumsy foot soldiers. Once they were down, he paused just long enough to give his dead opponents a nod of honor. They were his "enemies," but he knew they were only doing their jobs, just as he was, and he had no real argument with them.

A dying cry to his left pulled Yami's attention to another of his teammates, a Dead Boy crumpling at the other's feet from a fatal chest wound. Yami could tell by the decorative spikes covering the death-mask helm that the soldier was a psi-stalker, the psychic equivalent of a vampire and likely the leader of the Dog Pack scout squad. Though the Coalition was renowned as a government of human "purists" who despised anything non-human – which they considered to include not only Dee-Bees and mutants but also anyone displaying magical or psionic ability – they were not above the use of certain kinds for the most dangerous of operations, anything where the threat to specifically _human_ life was unacceptable. Yami grimaced at the thought.

His teammate approached him and, as he got closer, Yami realized that "he" was one of the few "she's" on the team. A small, painted dragon personalizing the breastplate of the body armor told him that it was Hausler. "You okay, Spooky?" Her voice crackled a bit through the speaker in her helmet, the built-in, technological Universal Translator device set to Japanese so that he would actually understand her.

Yami nodded, addressing her by her handle. "Yes, Guardian. I'm fine."

Pur-n'kln came up beside him, giving Hausler a small bow. "I believe the area is secure, Mistress Guardian."

Yami looked at him sideways, fascinated as always by the way the Talisman of Tongues changed the sounds to words the listener would understand regardless of what language that was. He knew that Hausler heard the comment in American even as he himself understood it in Japanese.

Hausler nodded, pausing only an instant before commenting in an affirming tone. Yami suppressed another grimace. She had switched her communicator back to American. He sighed as she turned over her shoulder to Sanders, giving him an order that sounded like it included Bleidd's handle, "Fangs," somewhere in the middle. Sanders nodded, pulled his radio off his belt, and relayed the message.

Hausler rattled off a string of information. Pur-n'kln nodded and turned to Yami. "Sir, Mistress Guardian states that we are clear to proceed with our search. Her transponder has picked up the target signal about a half-mile south-by-south-east of our present position."

Yami stifled a groan, deciding not to address the title – yet again – when they had other things to worry about. He nodded. "There's an old subway station – a big one – in the area, if I'm not mistaken."

Hausler commented again, waving for the team to follow, as Sanders – or "Handyman" as he was known on missions – drew up beside her along with Newsome and Osten, codenames "Tomahawk" and "Flash." Yami did not need to know what she had said – essentially "Let's move on" – but exchanged looks with Pur-n'kln, nodded, and took up a point position about a hundred feet ahead of his teammates, while Pur-n'kln seemed to disappear altogether, prowling the perimeter of their passage along the ruined streets of what Yami guessed was once a mighty city. Bleidd would lead the rest of the team about three hundred feet behind, providing a reserve for backup in case it was needed, such as in the case of another Walker making an unwanted appearance.

The presence of that Walker had been unusual for this side of the city. Crouched on the southwest bank of Lake Michigan, fewer than two hundred miles from Hell Hole, Old Chicago was a mere eighty miles northeast of the fortress city of Chi-Town, the heart of the biggest and meanest member of the Coalition States, the State of Chi-Town, instigator of the Coalition itself. Larger vehicles, like Spider-Skull Walkers and Enforcer Robots, normally ranged the perimeter of Old Chicago along the Chi-Town side, leaving patrol duty within the city to Dog Packs on the ground and the flight-capable SAMAS as well sky-cycle pilots from the air. All that military presence was not unwarranted, either, Yami knew – the area was a forbidden zone with hundreds of signs and barricades warning away the curious and any scavengers because of the high supernatural activity within the city's borders. No fewer than a dozen ley lines dissected the ruins, with a massive nexus in what was once the downtown metropolis, just a few miles from the shoreline of the lake. Yami little doubted that this was one of the reasons Anghrist had chosen to locate his prized base beneath this particular lake over any of the others. The region was infamous for strange occurrences and for attracting magic and supernatural creatures, as well as admitting strange, alien beings from rifts that periodically opened. Yami had asked Donovan once if he had come through such a rift from his home planet, as it had been on a mission here in Old Chicago that the team had first met him. Donovan had chuckled and made some off-handed remark, but never actually gave him a straight answer.

As he paced down the street, alert for anything that would indicate discovery by another CS patrol, Yami let his mind mull over what he knew of the "infamous, nefarious Coalition States." In reality, the majority of its people, even its soldiers, were not actually evil. They were merely victims of fear and prejudice in a frightening world of supernatural powers, thoroughly indoctrinated in the propaganda of their government. Some of Yami's own teammates were former CS military personnel and civilian citizens. A political entity whose governing influence spread a few hundred miles both ways off the Mississippi River all along its length, as well as west at the southern end well into old Texas, the Coalition States were all that was left of the once-mighty "American Empire," the rest of the continent lost to vast expanses of wilderness all the way to both coasts, interrupted here and there by autonomous communities of every size and description, none of which came close in scope and power to any one of the five States of the Coalition, with the exception of the Federation of Magic. The dictator-controlled government, led by self-proclaimed "Emperor" Prosek, represented itself as the embodiment of humankind on the North American continent, the protector of the human race and preserver of the old ways, the American Way. Unfortunately, it did so through a concept of self-preservation via isolation, preserved by a powerful military, as well as the propagation of belief in "racial superiority." Yami was no expert in Twentieth Century world history, but from what little impression he had developed from Yugi's studies in high school, the teachings and practices of the Coalition reminded him far more of Nazi Germany than the United States and, quite frankly, that unnerved him more than a little. Not only were "monsters" looked upon with fear, horror, distain and an instant agenda to kill before it could destroy them, but even more humanoid Dee-Bees, as well anyone – human and non-human – who wielded the "dangerous and unpredictable energy source from the rifts" known as magic were driven from CS communities at the very least and just as often killed on sight. Those with psionic capability did not carry an automatic death sentence, per se, but were only allowed in CS territory if they submitted to registration and identification coding, a tattooed barcode on the back of the neck and a microchip implanted under the skin of the chest. The use of psi-stalkers and Dog Boys resulted from a necessity to be able to hunt and track such beings.

_Like me_, Yami thought with a grimace. He was a mystical entity, possessing the magical energy of the Shadows, but he also registered as a psionic – why, he was not entirely sure. He thought it might have to do with the innate nature of the Shadows themselves, which relied heavily on illusion and hallucination – decidedly _mind-affecting_ powers. What he did know was that his incredibly powerful aura far overshadowed those of his teammates, those among them who possessed magic or psionics themselves. Like psi-stalkers, Dog Boys had an innate ability to sense psychic energy and the supernatural, no doubt derived from their canine origins. Even normal animals reacted to Yami's presence, and dogs had proven to be no exception. Yami's position on the team was to scout ahead of them, sometimes playing point man as he was now, sometimes getting into places they could not, or more often to draw the attention of any hunters and trackers – be they CS soldiers, supernatural predators, or any other sources of trouble – away from his teammates so that they could complete without hindrance whatever mission they had been assigned.

_Shit! Speaking of drawing attention_ . . . Yami had let his mind wander a little too much, not registering the movement out of the corner of his eye until it snarled and pounced him, tackling him sideways to the pavement. He twisted under the weight crouched on top of him only to find the barrel of an energy pistol pressed to the underside of his jaw, the bared teeth of a Dog Boy inches from his face even as the mutant's free hand pinned Yami's wrist to the concrete next to his head. It – she, Yami realized from the quality of voice – growled a question. He stifled a groan, plastered an "innocent, placating" grin on his face, and rambled at her, knowing she would not understand him. "Sorry, am I on your turf? I'm, ah, lost, and . . . I don't suppose you can tell me where I am, can you? I don't want any trouble . . . " Unfortunately, the mutant held his right hand, and his Deck case was on the back of his right hip. He released Shadow power through his manifestation of the Millennium Puzzle, both to draw the attention of any other individuals in the area to himself, away from his teammates, and in preparation for the summonings he was about to cast. Sensing the building energies, she snarled and pulled back the pistol to smash across his face, but he went de-solid and the butt of the weapon passed harmlessly through him.

He curled and rolled to his feet, passing through the body of the Dog Boy to do so. Each paused for a split second as a shudder of instinctive protest wracked them both at the intrusion, and she a second longer as her mind fought to comprehend what had just happened. By then, Yami had noted the flanking approach of no fewer than a dozen of her fellows, surrounding him. He felt a smirk tug at his lips as he pulled his Deck and began shuffling.

8 8 8 8 8

"_Kuribo, shoukan! __Mahou kaado o hatsudou, Zoushoku!_"

From his vantage point high on the roof of a building, Pur-n'kln had heard the canine snarls and felt the spreading of his partner's Shadow energies, so like his own and yet wielded in ways he knew he never could. He dropped the remains of the Dead Boy marksman he had found hiding up here and peeked over the retaining wall. At the same time, he realized that the spell duration of his amulet had lapsed, and he spared half a thought to re-energize it so that he would not fail to comprehend any more of his partner's words.

On the street below, Yami had activated his Deck, having been shuffled and returned, fully energized, to the case on his hip. He stood now with a handful of cards in his left hand as he slipped two more under that wrist's bracer for safekeeping. Pur-n'kln allowed a small grin. Yami had told him about this but, as his partner could only manifest a copy when his living counterpart, Master Mutou, held the physical set, he had not been able to show Pur-n'kln the actual monsters and spells he described. Pur-n'kln watched with interest as a two-foot ball of thick, brown fur multiplied into a veritable cloud of copies, all floating around their summoner, and the squad of Dog Boys took a collective step back in surprise and fear.

The cards had once been part of a popular game back in Yami's and Master Mutou's time, and Yami had been able to describe in detail what the manifestations from the artwork on the cards looked like in three-dimensions because he had seen them in holographic form in the past, "brought to life" so to speak by the technology of the era. The casting itself, however, had been restricted to the rules of the game they played. Those rules no longer applied. Yami could only summon one monster at a time in succession, but he could summon as many as he had the energy to sustain. He could cast his spells with similar ease, though some – the ones he called "traps" – required much more energy than the others. He referred to himself as a "True Duelist," though his peculiar manner of spellcasting was more like a blend of the abilities of a ley line walker and a shifter-summoner, with the requirement that he rely on a focus rather than cast his spells purely on will and spell knowledge alone or through arcane symbols and power circles.

"/_Elf Swordsman, summon!_/"

Pur-n'kln watched an eight-foot humanoid take shape, a well-built being in brown and green with metal trim to the armor and helm, flowing blue cape, and massive broadsword in hand. Once the monster was fully manifested, Yami slipped his card to join the other two under his left bracer, where they were considered to be "in play," even as he palmed yet another in his right hand. Like the cloud of what Pur-n'kln recalled were Kuribohs, Elf Swordsman was a manifestation of sentient Shadows, though if they had a life of their own or only possessed what self-awareness their summoner willed into them, Yami had not been able to say.

At the same time, the Dog Boys had opened fire on the mass of floating, furry Dee-Bees around Yami, which in turn exploded upon death, much to the Dog Boys' dismay. Pur-n'kln looked for a grimace of pain on his partner's face. Something about the manner in which Yami summoned his monsters linked their very lives to his own and, when they were destroyed, he took very real injury as well, but only if they were in what Yami called "Attack Mode." He took no damage when they were defending. Apparently, that was what they were doing, as Yami stood strong in their midst. The Dog Boys, however, fared far worse, being badly injured, one even killed, by the concentrated mini-explosions.

Elf Swordsman left his summoner's side to take on more of the enemies, passing fearlessly through the Kuribohs as they shifted around him out of his path. The Kuribohs themselves currently were unable to attack, and a few behind Yami began to cry in distress. "_Kuri! Kurikuri!_" Pur-n'kln watched Yami turn to see what they were warning him about, only to dance back in alarm at the sight of two belly-crawling Dog Boys at his heels, slipping beneath his furry defenses. Apparently, whatever spell Yami held palmed in his right hand would not help him against them, and Elf Swordsman was too far away. He reached for another card in his Deck case. Pur-n'kln knew, however, that Yami would not be able to summon anything in time to keep the Dog Boys from tackling him, which in turn would cancel his entire casting if he allowed his concentration to slip too far. From the look on Yami's face, he knew it too.

"Oh, no, you do not. Leave my partner alone," Pur-n'kln growled under his breath as he raised a hand to the sky. He clawed downward through the air, the gesture calling down a trio of crackling, purple-black bolts of lightning. He could cast up to three bolts at a time with the ability, called Dark Storm, and he directed them at the two Dog Boys closest to Yami and a third about to blast a hole through Elf Swordsman with his rifle. The bolts of Shadow-born electricity were target-specific and unerring, so he had no fear of hitting allies by accident. He watched the bolts lance harmlessly through the cloud of Kuribohs to fry their intended victims, then ducked back out of sight before any others could spot him. In situations like this, the arrangement was that Yami was the visible opponent, with Pur-n'kln in reserve to provide surprise attacks as needed – and between the two of them, to provide enough commotion to cover for the rest of the team.

He reached up to press the actuator button on the side of his radio headset. "Mistress Guardian, this is Furball. How goes?"

"Was just about to call you, Furby. Target successfully acquired. Fangs' pack has joined us too. Grab Spook, and let's the hell out of dodge."

"Acknowledged. Furball out." _Time to get serious . ._ .

8 8 8 8 8

Yami looked up as a winged form plummeted from the top of a nearby building, swallowing a curse of surprise as he realized it was not another attacker but his feline teammate. Pur-n'kln hit the pavement, seemingly unbothered by his four-story fall, and dropped to all fours to dart in under the Kuribohs. Yami made a mental note to let Pur-n'kln know that his monsters will allow him safe passage among them because they would recognize him as an ally, sensing as much from their summoner's heart.

Pur-n'kln stood up at Yami's side and threw an arm around his shoulders. "Shadow Slide."

Yami nodded, leaning into his teammate as he gathered all his waiting and active cards, pausing briefly before returning them to the Deck case. The Kuribohs cooed around him even as they further tightened ranks against the attacks of the Dog Boys, and Elf Swordsman turned to give him a nod. Yami nodded back. _Thank you, my friends. As always, thank you_. For the span of a heartbeat, Yami allowed himself to enjoy – and return – the emotions from his monsters, feelings of love, support, loyalty, and gladness that they had been able to aid their "beloved summoner." Then, he slipped the cards into the Deck case, Elf Swordsman and the Kuribohs vanished in a shower of sparks, and Pur-n'kln finalized his own concentration. To the eyes of the bewildered Dog Boys, Yami knew that the two seemed to melt into a single, flickering mirage-like shadow and sink out of sight into the ground.

Pur-n'kln had taken an invisible, two-dimensional form and traveled now by slithering along the ground. How he knew his way, Yami could not fathom, as he himself was deprived of his five senses. Normally, Pur-n'kln could not take another with him at all via this power but, as Yami was already an energy being and tied to the same Shadows that Pur-n'kln somehow wielded, they both figured that had to explain the exception.

Yami endured what felt like several long minutes of senseless motion before he found himself manifested again in the midst of his teammates, Pur-n'kln at his side. He and the feline spotted Bleidd at about the same time. "Sir!" they chorused unintentionally, saluting, before giving each other sidelong glances at the matched greeting. Humor flickered across emerald cat-eyes, and he himself swallowed a small grin.

Bleidd acknowledged them with a nod. "Furball, take us home, same way we got here."

"Yes, sir." Pur-n'kln went rather still, concentrating for several long seconds, and Yami could feel the building Shadow energies. Then, the feline slid his arm downward through mid-air as though wiping a vertical surface. Shadows trailed the gesture, expanding into a portal of dark energy not too unlike that created by the transport chambers. The ability was called Doorway, and it opened a sort of spatial warp corridor – through the Shadow Realm itself, if Yami's hunch was right – between Pur-n'kln's current position and a location of his choosing, though it had to be a place with which he was already familiar. In this case, it was one of the transport chambers in Hell Hole, specially modified to allow his ability to penetrate it despite its shielding.

The team filed through, Pur-n'kln necessarily last because the ability cancelled with its caster's passage. Once in the transport chamber, the attendant robot scanned them for identification as well as unauthorized devices or energy signatures, declared them clean, and opened the door. Yami grimaced at the thought of the debriefing they would have to endure but, if all went well, after he and Pur-n'kln had cared for Yugi, Anghrist might allow them to take him to the complex's library. Pur-n'kln had found Donovan's pair of enchanted eyeglasses when they had cleaned out Donovan's quarters yesterday, and Anghrist had allowed that the feline keep them. The glasses had an Eyes of Thoth spell built into them, which did for reading the written version of any language what Tongues did for speaking and understanding the verbal form. The library was a vast storehouse of practical knowledge as well as holding a collection of fiction in all its variety. About a week ago, Yami had found a series of graphic novels that had caught his attention. His _aibou_ did not have much presence of mind, but perhaps something in his heart would enjoy the images and the story as Yami and Pur-n'kln passed a quiet evening reading to him.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!

When I first sent this to MyAibou, I forgot to remove the list of characters I had written for myself at the bottom of the file. However, she wrote the following in her beta job: "This is handy! The Star Wars EU books all have a list of characters at the beginning, which is SO helpful because they're so heavy on characters it can be difficult to keep them straight" So I've decided to leave it in upon posting. *sheepish grin* The list will not likely _change_, per se, as the story progresses and I explore more about the characters, but if it does, I'll make note for everyone, 'kay?

Bleidd – "Fangs" Wolven male, commander and melee combat specialist  
Hausler – "Guardian" human female, psychic espionage expert  
Sanders – "Handyman/Handy" human male, operator & computer specialist, former CS  
Newsome – "Tomahawk" human male, weapons and demolitions specialist, former CS  
G'rda – "Blade" Dee-Bee female, melee combat specialist  
Osten – "Flash" human male, ley line walker ("traditional" spellcaster-type)  
Wufei – "Gundam" Dee-Bee male, powered-armor combat specialist (fell in love with some old pre-Rifts animated programs and took his name and handle from one of them)  
Brooks – "Brick" male, full conversion cyborg (human), former CS  
Elmore – "Cyclo" (short for "Encyclopedia") elven male, forger, appraiser, scholar  
Roman – "Caesar" human male, scientist  
Pur-n'kln – "Furball/Furby" Nightspawn male, decoy & recon scout  
Yami – "Spooky" human ghost male, sorcerer-psionic ("Shadow mage"), decoy & recon scout


	8. Chapter 8 Summoned

Shorter Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. "Rifts: Role-Playing Game," "Nightspawn/Nightbane: Role-Playing Game," and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Palladium Books Publishing and related entities. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Between the Shadows"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 8 – Summoned

Hard-soled boots sounded solid echoes across the flagstones with each step, earth-toned robes fluttering in a visual expression of their owner's annoyance.

_Chh_. A week. It had been over a week since that little "oopsie" in Demon's Gate and the farce in Tolkeen. The package to New Babylon had been intercepted by those fucking CS drones and, while not lost or damaged that he knew of, had yet to make it even halfway to their final destination. If that was the best the Garai Alliance had to offer in the way of protection and delivery, what the _hell_ kind of circus was Anghrist running these days?

Footsteps paused, clenched fists uncurling. No, this would not do. He had been waiting for this day for _longer_ than a week, and he would not go into it focused on unrelated things. His brother had reached a new level in his abilities as well as his studies and was at last ready for his summoning teacher's final test, the Circle Master only just having returned late yesterday from his long trip. If Marcus passed, he could finally put the subject of summoning behind him and move on to other areas of study.

Korwyn continued down the hall a little further before stopping again. The young mage glared at the wrought-iron door as he remembered his own days in the chamber beyond. The Lords of Magic of Dweomer City had long ago passed a law that all magic-users, regardless of Brotherhood, academy, or guild, were to have a good grounding in the mystic arts in all its various forms, except those expressly forbidden. For that omission, at least, Korwyn was thankful. He suppressed a shudder at the brief memory that came, unbidden, of the solitary time he had seen Necromancy at work. God, what sick mind had originated _that_ practice? Still, he had spent countless hours in his pre-teen years with his nose buried in the reference books lining the shelves in this great chamber, or else filling pre-carved circles in the floor with arcane symbols drawn in chalk, while sweat and sometimes tears and even blood threatened to smear the glyphs. He had long since put behind him the dangerous, sometimes lethal, practice of summoning, enslaving, and banishing supernatural beings of all kinds. Granted, that was barely a half-dozen years ago but might as well have been a lifetime for all that he had since accomplished far away from rooms like this one. His true talents lay in quite a different arena. He smirked, fingering the thick silver Chain of Office draped about his shoulders, the richly jeweled and enameled medallion identifying him as a Techno-Wizard of the most influential guild in the whole Federation of Magic.

A voice from the other side of the door barked an order, and Korwyn frowned. No one talked to his little brother with that tone of voice, not even a long-tenured and respected teacher like Master Daru. He grasped the handle and shoved the door open without preface, narrowed eyes betraying none of his private amusement at the startled flinch that shivered down Daru's slim frame. A jumpy one, he, but Korwyn figured that was what became of one who meddled in, and very often interrupted, the affairs of demons, angels, astrals, and everything in between simply because he could. It would cost him one day. Korwyn just hoped he was there to witness.

"Guildmaster Saito, you're . . . _almost_ late," Daru corrected himself. Only a Magus or a Guildmaster had the right to admonish another Guildmaster, no matter if he were one's younger by multiple decades – and Korwyn Saito held the distinction of being the youngest to attain such a position in nearly a century.

At the same time, a pre-teen boy spun to his feet from the nearest and smallest of the circles adorning the smooth slate of the great chamber's floor, black hair bouncing about his shoulders. "Brother! You came! I thought for sure you'd be too busy with your new duties." He dusted chalk from his fingertips as he started for his brother, then stopped with a glance at Daru. His teacher had not given permission to delay his test.

With a brief, heart-freezing glare at Daru, daring him to comment, Korwyn crossed the room with a few long-legged strides and embraced the boy, his only remaining blood family. "No, Marcus, I am never too busy for my little brother." He allowed a small but warm smile down into dark, muted blue eyes, so reminiscent of their father's. "You should know that by now."

Daru harrumphed quietly, clearing his throat at the "inappropriate" display in such a serious chamber of ancient power. "Guildmaster Saito, before we begin, I do have to ask whether or not you brought your . . . scepter?"

A laser gaze boring into Daru's mix-matched eyes – forest-green and slitted-gold like a snake's – were Korwyn's sole answer. Of course he had not brought his scepter! True, he was not often without it, but he had not attained his position in the council by allowing any such careless stupidity in those around him, let alone in himself. Even he did not fully understand yet the extent of power and abilities lying dormant in the mystical artifact that had come into his possession not so long ago, and he was not about to risk its energies interfering with his brother's summoning, needlessly endangering Marcus's life.

Korwyn stepped back as Daru waved his student off to finish his preparatory work. He watched his brother finish the drawings with practiced ease, but his mind for the moment was on the golden, dual-finned mace gracing the wall above the fireplace mantel in his modest living room, the design of which vaguely resembled a double-bladed battleaxe with a most interesting eye motif molded in bas relief on either side of the spherical head. He did not fully know why he allowed it to occupy such a prominent place in their home, only feeling from deep within him that it well deserved such an honorable display. Arms crossed, Korwyn looked sidelong down at his former instructor. "Speaking of which, have you learned anything?"

Daru growled in frustration. "I have not, Guildmaster. My apologies. You have my word to keep inquiring, however."

Korwyn permitted himself a small scowl before letting the matter go. From all he had heard, there were benefits to masterful skills of summoning and controlling beyond mere exertion of will, such as the ability to coax – or force – from beings of other realms knowledge not available to those of the Prime Material Plane. He had felt the deep-seated evil buried in the mystic energies of his scepter, along with its power, and hoped to learn something of it that he had not, on his own understanding and skills, been able to uncover.

"Master Daru." Marcus stood once more from his work, brushing off the chalk from his hands onto his trouser thighs. Korwyn managed not to groan audibly. How many times had he told Marcus to use his handkerchief for that? Well, now was not the time for such a trivial complaint. Marcus had more important things on which to keep his mind right now. Korwyn approached the power circle once more alongside Master Daru as the latter looked it over, scrutinizing for any mistakes in the glyphwork. Korwyn knew that Daru would not comment one way or another. If Marcus had made any mistakes, he would learn the hard way, Daru only stepping in if Marcus could not correct the problem on his own. The boy had made no mistakes that Korwyn could see but, then, that did not surprise him.

Daru nodded. "You have chosen to summon from the Astral Plane, I see." A small smirk twisted his lips. "I am told by Lady Mirel that you show quite the potential for Astral travel. Have a care, boy. Beings such as the one you are about to summon can only affect those with Astral selves, so most people do not have to fear them, but if one should ever manage to get a hold of you, the problem is that you _will_ live to regret it."

A smirk of confidence answered the teacher's. "Only if it can get past my circle."

_And me_, Korwyn swore, bracing. He knew what it was his brother had chosen to summon and he did not approve, but it had been Marcus's choice, and the boy was merely curious to see with his own eyes what one looked like, having heard the horror stories from his Astral Planes and Dreamstream tutor.

Daru shrugged. "If you are that confident, boy, I'll certainly not stop you." He eyed his pupil hard. "Nor might I be able to call your soul back if the monster manages to rip it from your body." With that, he stepped back once again, waving for his student to perform the ritual.

Korwyn scowled. _Over my carcass, old man. Keh . . . or, more likely, over yours_. Korwyn knew the meaning of the snake-like eye. Daru had been demon-marked . . . and the abyssal horror that he had offended, that had claimed him, would come back one of these days to make good on that promise.

Marcus spoke the arcane words, and the power circle flared to life.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Gods, he hated her.

Other fell powers, more terrible even than she, had forged her into what she was, driving her irrevocably mad even as they had twisted her mind and spirit to their own dark purposes, indoctrinating her with the "infallible truth" that causing pain in others was as desirable and pleasurable as suffering so herself was horrific and to be avoided at all costs, so he figured that he really could not blame her.

But he still hated her.

Not that _she_ cared. She probably no longer even comprehended the concept.

"I have so missed you, my naughty little pet. You really are as much fun as your little brother." Lilia dug her fingers into Yami's hair at the crown, folding his limp, inverted body up toward her. She planted a gentle kiss to the center of his forehead, then giggled, brushing fingertips across pale, emaciated lips. "That always tingles. How come? Your brother doesn't do that. Lilia tried again when she had him last week." She poked a clawed finger at the spot he knew his Horus Eye appeared when he called forth the full extent of his Shadow power.

Last week . . . when Yami had disrespected Anghrist in front of the visitors from Atlantis, and his _aibou_ had been punished in his place.

Yami shuddered in Lilia's grasp, hardly an inch of his existence not screaming in agony, fiery pain cutting across his half-unraveled energy pattern and his capacity to reason in anything more profound than semiconscious observations, and he whimpered at the knowledge that there was still more to come.

In their first real mission together, Yami and Pur-n'kln, along with the rest of the team, had been sent after a relatively difficult acquisition, a pre-Rifts archive of video documentaries from a ruined stronghold on the east coast of the North American continent that Yami was told had once been a complex of museums and history warehouses called Smith's Owning, or something like that. The old city of Washington, like the rest of the coast, had been decimated by a decade of tidal waves, earthquakes, and hurricanes wrought by the coming of the rifts, but the strongholds' subterranean stores of miscellany had survived largely intact. One needed only to excavate them. One also needed to get through the variety of supernatural horrors residing in the region.

A battle had erupted when the team was discovered by a hunting pack of gargoyles. Roman and Elmore had managed to locate the particular library Anghrist sent them to find, and Pur-n'kln had begun to gather the materials. A gargoyle had found them and snatched one of the crates out of spite, taking off with it. Yami activated a spell Anghrist called Dark Whip, a tendril of Shadow he could cast as a whip or manipulate like a prehensile tentacle. Thinking to catch the monster, slow it down long enough for Wufei, Osten, and G'rda to kill it or at least retrieve the crate, Yami had cracked his Dark Whip, entangling the monster's legs. Unfortunately, he had forgotten about a weakness of Pur-n'kln's: his teammate was phobically terrified of whips, and the sight and sound – even though not directed at him – made him drop one of the crates when he panicked and curled in on himself, and the crate was smashed open by another gargoyle in its struggle with Newsome and Hausler. The contents were recovered, but found to be severely damaged. Yami had cursed himself. Pur-n'kln had told him of his phobia, and Yami had allowed himself to forget until it was too late. He had known that his failure would be reported to his master, and that Anghrist would make sure that his slave did not forget such an important detail again . . .

Now, Yami just prayed that Pur-n'kln was faring at least a little better than he, knowing that his companion healed and recovered far more quickly than he could. But such was the price of failure. He and Pur-n'kln had already been told that they were to watch each other's backs and help each other out with nothing less than each one's very best because, if either one failed his partner, the other men, or the mission, both would be punished.

Lilia unbuckled the barb-lined leather cuff holding his other ankle, catching the trembling astral body with practiced ease as she chortled. "Here, let's get you over to the table now where you can lay down and relax. I've got some new ideas I think you'll like." Yami managed to struggle weakly but had little strength left in him as she cradled him to herself in the crook of one arm, bloodied back pressed to her with his arms draped over hers, hugged the way a child might carry a beloved doll.

She was halfway across the room when energies swirled into existence, surrounding and latching onto them both. Yami had felt such energies only a few times before, recognizing them instantly even through the haze of agony. Someone or something was compelling Lilia. He just happened to be getting caught along for the ride. The pull was far too rough and unrefined to be Anghrist, but still it was strong enough to drag Lilia – and her plaything – to respond.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8

"/_Hn, what have we here?_/"

Yami heard the voice before he could even quite take stock of his new location, the violent yank across dimensions in his current condition having rendered him momentarily unconscious. Silky stone chilled his cheek and chest, while clawed hands pressed the backs of his lacerated shoulders from above. He heard Lilia hiss as she shifted over him, a cornered predator hunched possessively over her prey. He moved to lift his head, and sharp nails like talons dug into his astral "flesh," warning that he was not to try anything untoward. What first met his eyes elicited a groan before he could catch it: inches from one hand, the concentric curves of a triple-circle carved into the stone floor. The glyphs were of chalk, nothing permanent, but he recognized enough of the runes readily within sight to realize that this was a summoning circle, one that no doubt included wards to keep him and Lilia from being able to cross or affect anything outside of its boundaries. He guessed that it included a Tongues spell of some kind as well, as it would not do to summon something that could not understand its captor's language, let alone its questions or demands.

_"/Hey, look! Two for the price of one! Do I get extra points for that?/_" A pause, then an empathetic, "/_Ah, man! What'd she __do__ to you, guy?_/"

While the first voice had barely registered – elderly, unworried, marginally interested, mostly just bored – it was the new one, a child's voice, that brought his eyes snapping up past the toes of boots visible beyond the circle, driving him to get to his elbows in spite of the punishing rake of nails across his shoulder blades for daring to move so much. Wild, raven-black hair framed a face with muted blue eyes that stared back, a spark of confused near-recognition in their dilated depths. "/_Hey . . . do I . . . know you?_/" the boy asked, the question popping from his lips before he could think. Yami's voice had fled at the impossible sight before him, and he could only stare in shocked disbelief, only vaguely registering the disassociation of sounds and mouth movements.

A strong hand grabbed the boy's shoulder, pulling him back to relative safety behind a tall, slim body. Yami had to twist even more to see up high enough to get a glimpse of the young man's face but, when he did, his heart would have stopped completely had it still been living and beating to begin with. Sharp azure eyes bore into his, protective warning and confused alarm warring in their depths at the sight of him.

Flabbergasted, the spirit gaped for a long moment before he could get his throat to work, a single word escaping his lips. "K-kaiba . . . ?"

The man had recovered his dignity by then, but he could not hide the flinch of vague recognition in his eyes, as though he knew the name, even if he did not know how or from where.

The soft comment, however, was either not heard or completely ignored by the third occupant of the room beyond the power circle. "/_Oh, for the love of – Out of my way, you two._/" A wrinkled frog of an older human dragged the pair back and to the side by the scruffs of their necks, then crouched on his haunches to study the circle's occupants. He glanced back over his shoulder with a grunt. "/_What? Were you expecting a __lone__ Torturian? How likely do you really think it would be to summon one that _wasn't_ toying with some poor bastard?_/" Lilia hissed again behind her charge but knew better than to talk back. The old, mixed-eyed toad met Yami's gaze, quite disinterested in the spirit's plight. Yami could see that he did not want to be bothered with the added burden of the miscellaneous catch. "/_Feh, git outta my circle, you. Marcus!_/" He turned over his shoulder to look at the raven-haired boy.

'_Marcus' . . . ?_ Yami blinked again as though to clear his vision, still unable to accept the reality before him. _M-mokuba . . ._

The boy peered from behind the taller one's arm, who held it out protectively across him. "/_Master Daru?_/"

"/_Activate the glyphs that will paralyze your circle's occupants_./"

Yami gasped. "Ah! N-no, wai-!" But the boy spoke the word to energize the requested glyph, and Yami felt a power invade him, holding him fast.

"/_Now, activate the glyphs that will release _that_ one and send it back where it belongs without freeing _that_ one._/"

Yami saw the flinch of reaction in the tall man's eyes, as though he wanted for an instant to protest, to prevent that action from being taken, but the man chose to hold his peace instead, though his eyes never left Yami's. Yami watched in forced silence, straining against the spell of the active glyph, as the boy moved to obey, pulling his eyes from Yami's with reluctance to locate and verbally trigger the correct runes. Power flooded Yami's existence once more, flinging him from the room.

For him, "back where it belongs" was the Millennium Puzzle, and Yami felt himself dumped unceremoniously into its Shadow-born energy pattern, slamming it fairly hard.

_Oww . . . _

He pulled himself back together there on the floor of his soul room, his pattern still badly rent and frayed from the abuse he had suffered on the Astral Plane. Then, he stiffened in alarm. _Oh, gods_. He was still firmly in hot water with Anghrist, or would be as soon as the man discovered his slave's premature arrival. Yami had returned early from his punishment, unbidden and indeed unaccompanied to boot, and he had "not bothered" to see Anghrist first before being permitted to withdraw to his sanctuary. If Anghrist were not already present in his study, where he would have sensed Yami's tumble back into the Puzzle, he would feel his slave's presence as soon as he –

"_Yami ga Mou Hitori no Mutou Yuugi_, get your ass out here _now_."

The low voice, ever collected and in control, held far more coercion than if it had screamed the command, even without the compulsion of his true name's use beneath the assumed one, its power laced into the energies of the summons. Yami winced, cringing even as he moved to obey, given no choice by the influence of his name's use. He flowed from the Puzzle into the study, materializing by the corner of the desk. Pur-n'kln lay curled in a miserable ball, the deep, open whiplashes of a wickedly barbed cat-o-nine-tails still fresh enough to be healing even as Yami located him. Then, that nine-thonged whip cracked again, this time wrapping Yami's throat and shoulders, energy snapping down the lashes from Anghrist's de-solid affecting spell, and he was hauled off his feet into his master's iron grip.

"How DARE you return in such a manner, without even checking in first! What happened? Where is Lilia?"

Yami did not answer right away, which only incensed his master further, but in truth he _could_ not, still too deeply in shock at what he had just seen. Anghrist shoved his mind into his slave's, and at that Yami did respond, fighting however futilely. He could not really keep Anghrist from learning what had just happened, in every detail, but it was _not_ his to know! And how would his master use the information? What would the man do with it to further exert his control over his enthralled spirit? And what would it mean for the other? Moaning, Yami struggled in stubborn desperation to protect the memory of a tall, lithe frame, dark, well-groomed hair, and unforgettable, laser-blue eyes. That one had been reincarnated once already. Even if he dared not allow himself to hope, Yami could not deny the possibility nor, given what he had just seen, _probability_: it very well could have happened again.

Anghrist won the battle, eyeing his ever-rebellious chattel as he shoved Yami to the floor alongside his felinoid partner. "Indeed?" Cold, turquoise eyes turned thoughtful, calculating, in that way that Yami had learned invariably spelled someone's doom. "Indeed."

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!


	9. Chapter 9 Into the Hornets' Nest

Shorter Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. "Rifts: Role-Playing Game," "Nightspawn/Nightbane: Role-Playing Game," and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Palladium Books Publishing and related entities. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Between the Shadows"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 9 – Into the Hornets' Nest

"Poor bastard's soooo screwed."

Hank Hutchison did not even bother suppressing a grin at the low mutter from his special ops agent behind him, now that their contact had turned his back to return to his own men. He looked down at the signed form in his grip, smile fading even as he thought he should be relieved to have the cargo off his and his company's hands . . . but found he was not. "Seńor Hector Alano Cesaro Ibarra" read the all-too tidy signature. _Ibarra, you better follow our instructions to the letter, or you'll find out just how screwed you really are_. Hank shook his head. It was no longer his problem, but Gambit was right. If that thing was allowed to wake from its drug-induced stupor . . .

They had been assured by Commander Bleidd way back in Tolkeen that the mystic control box on the cryogenic cargo crate was infallible, that some hot-shot techno-mage – _Kaito, Maito, Schmaito? Eh, whatever_ – had built it himself shortly after the beast's capture. No doubt the walking carpet of a Wolven had no idea what he had been ordered to deliver to Hank's company. Hank and his men would not have known, either, had not an altercation outside of Chillicothe caused stray gunfire to destroy the cryogenic control box. They later got out of Bleidd – across a secured, narrow-band radio communication – that the psionic horror that had started attacking both parties with an indiscriminate vengeance had taken an extreme exception to being captured to begin with back at Demon's Gate. Bleidd had suggested what spells to use to subdue the monster until they could get to El Dorado and purchase strong enough and lasting enough drugs to sedate it for the rest of its journey. Hank was thankful for his ley line walker Benjamin, or he would have lost his entire company.

"Hank."

Hank turned at the voice, his eyes finding the other's alien gaze – blood-red where the eyes should have been white, with irises so black they blended with the pupils. The shock of mint green in the bangs of otherwise snow-white hair had always intrigued – and amused – him. "Yeah, Gambit?"

Gambit – his name was Azhar, but no one called him that – nodded back over his shoulder in half-feigned incredulous shock. "I think Fuzzy's developed an unnatural affection for a certain part of the new hover tank's anatomy."

"What?" Hank glanced up at the tank behind him but, as he was standing at the ass-end of the thing, he could not see much. He started around the vehicle.

"If he gets overexcited up there, I'm _not_ cleanin' it up."

Jack snickered. "Just s'long as he don't decide ta get drunk up there . . . "

Hank stifled a groan at his crackerjack pilot, not wanting to follow that line of thought. Fenris drunk was . . . amusing but messy more often than not.

"Hey, whaddya get if you let Fuzzy _get_ tanked while he's _on_ the tank?" laughed Billy, the group's wilderness scout. "Puddles or puppies! Ha! Either way, it's gonna be ugly."

Scraps, the mechanical and electrical whiz who maintained all of the company's non-magical vehicles and equipment, shook his head. "Either way," he echoed, "_you're_ gonna play wet nurse if that happens. Sorry, I ain't paid enough to scrub that kinda crap outta stuff." He gave Hank a wink, a tanned and scarred finger poking Billy in the chest, then he high-fived his friend, Gambit.

With a groan, Hank followed his men around to the front of their new acquisition, a Carnivore Mark I light hover tank. It had been part – okay, most – of their pay for delivering the cargo, and a much-needed addition to their ever-changing inventory of vehicles. He was completely unsurprised to spot Fenris already checking out the particle beam cannon jutting from the main turret. He _did_ have to admit to some disconcerted worry that his comrade was actually straddling the thing, stroking it in quite the manly manner.

"Nuthin' like proving you're the Alpha male, especially with a BFG like this."

_Big Fucking Gun_. Hank rolled his eyes. Yep, leave it to the timber-wolf-based former CS Dog Boy to take an immediate liking – and lay claim – to the vehicle's main armament. After all, he _was_ Hank's primary heavy artillery specialist, among other things. When it came to shooting the big guns, there was no one better. "Just don't mark our new toy, a'right? I don't need dog piss leaking into the crew compartment."

"What? Just because _you're_ not equipped with the proper mechanics to handle this baby doesn't mean I'm not."

Hank refrained from shaking his head. It would only encourage him. He had known Fenris too long to be overly concerned, to be honest. He and Gambit were among the longest-standing members of his present company.

And the only ones who knew the truth of the company's position. Hank's Hornets were not quite as freelance as Hank let the men believe, but were in fact affiliated secretly with the powerful and elusive Garai Alliance, a conglomerate of mercenary companies and black market dealers. As much as he hated it, he had not been given a choice when an agent of one Lord Anghrist Nidhug had approached him, saying they had become too successful to be allowed to continue operating in Garai Alliance-controlled territory, which was the whole damn continent if Hank understood the fine-print-between-the-lines. They could agree to serve the Garai Alliance as "jobs" – which really meant "orders" – were presented and give over a portion of their earnings, or they could face extermination. Hank had heard the stories of the true power of the Garai Alliance. He did not know how much to believe them but was not about to risk his men's lives to find out.

At that, Hank did shake his head, dispelling those troublesome thoughts and refocusing on the task at hand. His men were tired, hungry, and more than ready for some R&R – and he knew just the place. An hour's ride from here, on the edge of the Sierra Madre Mountains, was Dante's Inferno, a surprisingly prosperous if rough and notorious town in the middle of the Mexican desert. Whoever had named the town certainly had gotten the "inferno" part right, though Hank had always wondered who or what a "dohn-tayz" was. Oh, well. It didn't matter. There was one place he knew of that was perfect for beating the heat, if it was still there.

"Hornets, listen up! Fenris, gi'down off the damned cannon. Saddle up and move 'em out, people. We're headed to Yurkie's Hole."

8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8 8

"Ah, c'mon. We're this close. We _gotta_ stop by Corona. I'm tellin' ya, you'll _love_ my ma's cooking. And she'll love havin' everyone. An' I mean everyone. Ma's _used_ to cookin' for a whole ranchful of people – you know that."

Hank pulled a breath. "Scraps, we're not 'this close'. Corona is still another day and a half from here – and in the wrong direction."

"That's what you said last time," Gambit reminded him, shaking a fork at him.

"Man, put that down before you hurt somebody!" Fenris's throaty laugh belied the command.

Hank, Fenris, Gambit and Scraps sat at a booth along the back wall of Yurkie's Hole, an old but sturdy bar the men had discovered one of the times they were down here about two years ago – dark, smoky, rowdy, itching for a fight. For himself, Hank was hoping for a quiet evening of cold beer and decent food that had not been cooked over a campfire, but knew his prospects of an uneventful stay looked bleaker and bleaker as the noise at the card game in the near corner got louder and louder, the argument threatening to turn violent. Hank stood. "I'll be back."

Gambit frowned up at him. "Where you going?"

"To the john." Hank jabbed a thumb at the card table. "While I still can." He had already put down a full meal and three beers, and he did not feel like having to "hold it" if a fight did break out.

By the time Hank meandered his way back toward his booth, the cards were fluttering upward, caught in the air current of the ceiling fan, and raining back down like confetti in a wide pattern as the players upturned the table in their attempts to reach each other. Hank still would have stayed out of the fight, but he was just sliding into his seat next to Fenris when he heard the sharp crack of a gunshot and caught out of the corner of his eye as Gambit jerked back in his seat. He looked up to a bullet hole and a blood splatter on the wall next to Scrap's head, the operator himself only still upright by the support of Gambit's fist buried in his shirt, the younger man not fast enough to pull his buddy back out of the stray bullet's path along with himself. After an instant of shock, Gambit's eyes flared with wrath, and a red haze overtook Hank. They had killed one of his men! And with a firearm! "All firearms stop here. Period." read a sign over a barrel by the door. The rest of the bar seemed to freeze, but Hornets all around the room surged to their feet as they realized what had just happened. Hank pulled a knife – blades were up close and personal and therefore allowed. Fenris did not need a knife. His silver-capped fangs and claws, for dealing with supernatural foes, could tear through damned near _any_ flesh. Gambit paused only long enough to close his friend's eyes and lay him carefully on the ground, then threw himself alongside his teammates at the other group. The Hornets took care of their own, no matter what.

Hank had taken down no less than the gunman and two of his lackeys single-handedly when a grip on his shoulder from behind spun him around. On reflex, he obliged, shifting to grapple the young man in turn and flip him onto his back on a table. One hand buried in the guy's shirt, the other fist holding the knife high, Hank was ready to chalk up "Lackey Number Three" when astonished recognition sparked in one wide, dark brown eye under shaggy bangs of gold, the left socket hidden behind a mirror-reflective eye patch.

"Hanky?"

"J- . . . J-jon-Jon?"

"Hank, behind you!"

Hank spun at Fenris's bark, pulling the blond back up straight behind him, barely registering when the guy took an instinctive back-to-back stance with him. For just an instant, Hank was thirteen again, back home in Watercrest, working his way out of yet another scrape down on the docks, his best friend from who-knew-when watching his back, and he Jonathan's.

8 8 8 8 8

Fenris pulled himself free of the tangle on the floor into which he had tripped trying to get to his brother-in-arms, only to find that Hank needed no other back up. Fenris had never seen Hank fall into a rhythm with someone so fast before – nor trust someone so completely in such a short time, and his sharp lupine hearing had caught the names they exchanged. _Hm . . . old friends, it would seem_.

_And . . . _that_ was an interesting move_. Fenris winced as an opponent went down at a dirty move from the blond.

By the time the fighting died down, Hank, his new buddy, and a handful of other Hornets were the only ones left standing who had not pulled out at first opportunity. The moans of the surviving wounded permeated the air along with the reek of beer and blood, and Fenris could only shake his head. _All right, time to get everyone back to camp for the night_. Wordlessly, he followed Gambit back over to their table – and to their friend's body.

8 8 8 8 8

Hank stood a moment longer, assessing the situation and taking a silent headcount of his men. He had left five with the vehicles, the ones who lost the casting of lots. They had not grumbled too much, as it guaranteed them dibs on the next R&R. Gambit and Fenris were gathering up Scraps' body – no man was left behind, no matter what – while Angel pulled a wounded Tinder to his feet. Hank was just glad the pyrokinetic had not burned the whole place down. Benjamin and Jack were similarly injured, while Hank remembered watching Billy and Eddie head upstairs with some of the local lovelies. Just then, both half-dressed SOBs came stumbling down the steps, "ready" as best as they could manage to help their buddies in the fight. Taking in the sight, they moved at a gesture from Hank to help Angel with the wounded.

Finally, he turned. "Jonathan? What in the – !" But the blond was beginning to slink away in the opposite direction. Hank grabbed him. "Oh, no, you don't! Where do you think _you're_ going?"

"Nh-huh, it's Cool J these days. And . . . ah . . . " Hank watched Jonathan's eye dart around the room as he tugged off the decorated jacket that had made Hank believe he was with the group that killed Scraps. Underneath, he wore a simple long-sleeved shirt over cargo pants and boots, both hands hidden in gloves. "Let's get outta here, 'kay?"

Hank set a hand to the back of "Cool J's" shoulder and shoved, hollering, "Hornets, close ranks!" The company circled up in an instant, centering around their leader, helping to obscure the guy with him from any who might be looking. Thus, they made it out of the building.

Having heard the commotion and then seeing their comrades exiting the bar, the five outside already had prepped the vehicles for departure, but Jonathan balked. "Hang on! Where're we goin'? I can't just leave town . . . "

Hank frowned. "You were looking to get away from someone a minute ago, like you got a bounty hunter on your ass or someth-" He stopped. "Pops is here, too, isn't he?"

The other hesitated, then, "Yep."

"Where?"

At a word, the company was on the move, no questions asked.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!


	10. Chapter 10 For Old Time's Sake

Shorter Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. "Rifts: Role-Playing Game," "Nightspawn/Nightbane: Role-Playing Game," and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Palladium Books Publishing and related entities. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Between the Shadows"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 10 – For Old Time's Sake

Hank sank back against the tree, watching and listening to father and son banter, once again remembering age thirteen, when he had left home in search of adventure. Damn, had that really been almost ten years ago already? _No, wait . . . almost twelve. Shit_. Twenty-six was coming up in a hurry, though he thought it was the face of someone already well into his thirties who stared back at him from the rearview mirrors of his Tarantula combat jump-bike. Samuel Munroe and his son Jonathan had been like family to him after raiders killed his own parents. But he had wanted more out of life than an operator could offer and, tried though he did, Sammy had been unable to talk his foster son out of taking a job on one of the merchant ships running up and down the east coast of North America. The old man had proven right, however. The seas were no place for Hank, if for no other reason than he liked both open space and guns too much, and carrying ammunition on a waterbound vessel was rather counterproductive at best. The captain had released him early from his contract but left him far from home, where a mercenary company soon picked him up. Things . . . well, things had gone steadily from there, though whether one would say for the better or worse was up to one's own opinion. Hank was happy with his life, appreciative of the men whose trust he had earned and honorable in his dealings with potential and repeat clients, but he had never tried to return home, feeling his "father" would not approve of what he had chosen to do with his life.

Now? Now, he was not so sure, not after listening to some of his "brother's" exploits and what Pops had put up with for the past decade. His own tale was practically tame by comparison.

"Well, that's interesting. Jonathan and I were just recently in Demon's Gate ourselves, as a matter of fact, until we had to stow away on that riverboat bound down the Mississippi – "

"I'm _tellin'_ ya, I was framed for that one!" Jonathan reiterated for what might have been the third time, but Jack and Benjamin still were not buying the story of how he had earned the attention of this particular bounty hunter any more than his own father did.

Procurement specialist. That was the term Billy had stuck on him after the men grilled Jonathan over his skills and technical knowledge, trying to slap a label on him if only for their own amusement. More or less, it was a socially-acceptable term for "thief." At length, Jonathan had given in, announcing proudly, in spite of his elderly father's scowls, how he could slip into any_where_ and obtain any_thing_ – be it goods, information, even people – at any _time_ . . . for the right price, of course.

"That 'right price' is going to get you killed one of these days, Jonathan!" Sammy had snapped.

Jonathan just shrugged. "Yeah, maybe, but it's been fun in the meantime. Sure beats sittin' home gettin' old all safe an' _bored_."

"Need I remind you that we don't _have_ a home anymore, thanks to – "

"Hey! No _way_ you're pinnin' that one on _me_, Pops!"

Hank had heard the story twice already himself by that point – from Jonathan while they were digging Scraps' grave earlier that evening, then from Sammy who strode forward to "correct" the telling. Between the two versions, Hank guessed there was equal blame to spread between the two. Hank just shook his head, not surprised in the least. He had always known the bastard who functionally owned the local authorities had harbored an untold grudge against the older man, one Sammy was not himself innocent of aggravating on occasion, but Hank would be willing to bet it had been something of Jonathan's doing to tip things over the edge, even if it were true that he had not meant to. Since then, Jonathan had been doing the best he knew how to employ his varied talents, interests, and natural curiosity and propensity for working his way through challenges one way or another, thereby doing his share to support himself and his father.

"So, Samuel . . . " Fenris started, walking over from the far side of the fire and offering a clawed hand.

The elderly man groaned softly as he pushed himself to his feet, politely standing to meet the Dog Boy face-to-face . . . or as close to that as he could manage. At just under four-and-a-half-feet in height, there were not too many over the age of ten that the portly old man _could_ look eye-to-eye. "No, no . . . no need to be so formal, lad. Just call me 'Sammy,' or even Pops if you'd like. I don't mind."

Fenris tossed Hank a toothy, lupine grin. "Ha! I like him already." He took the man's smaller, calloused hand in one big, long-fingered paw. "Name's Fenris. So . . . you an operator, you said? Hank, you talked to this guy yet?"

Hank pulled himself to his feet, crossing to join the two. He had been sitting apart from the others due to a headache that developed during the makeshift funeral they had held for Scraps – Hank always got a headache when he had to say good-bye to a comrade. Thank Fate or whatever was out there that he did not have to do so nearly as often as their profession could potentially make him have to do. Reaching the gathering on this side of the campfire, Hank shook his head. "No, not yet. Listen, Pops, Jon-J-!" He swallowed back the old nickname. No _way_ was he having his own childhood moniker become common knowledge among his men – even if he did already have less than their utmost fear-of-God respect as it was. Not that he actually wanted any such relationship with them, either. Still, if he wanted at least to _attempt_ to keep the expected teasing and jokes to a minimum, it was up to him to make the first move. "_Jonathan_," he corrected, "you guys know we lost our operator today, and you can see the number of vehicles and other equipment that need keeping up. And since you guys don't really have a home to speak of . . . what do you say?" He swept a hand across camp, meager but comfortable as it was.

Oddly enough, Jonathan kept his mouth shut as he looked to his father. For all the surface banter and bickering, Jonathan Kyle Munroe still loved his father and respected his decisions – at least most of them. In any case, whatever life threw at them, they were all each other had, and they were in it together. Hank could read as much and more in the glances traded between them. Finally, Sammy looked up at him.

"You seem to have made quite a little niche in life for yourself, Henry James Hutchison. You have a company of men who look to you for support and guidance, just as you once looked to me. It would be our honor to be counted among them . . . eh, Jonathan?"

"Ya never _write_. Ya don't _call_ . . . " Jonathan rolled his one eye in mock complaint, but then he met Hank's gaze – steady, trusting, and sure. "Hey, it ain't without reason you turned around today so I could knock yer teeth in, ya bastard."

Hank did not miss the twinkle of humor and brotherly competition in that dark chocolate eye. "Wait! Who had _who_ pinned down on a table with a knife ready to take out that other eye for you?" The two clasped hands, pulling together in one-armed embraces to pat the other on the back, brothers in spirit separated for far too long. When they stepped back again, however, Hank frowned in concern. "Speaking of which . . . what happened to you, man?"

"Wha – ? Oh, this?" Jonathan rubbed the patch over his left eye, uncharacteristically self-conscious, then shrugged. "Eh . . . it's nothin'. Lost it in an accident on one'a my . . . procurement jobs." He traded a look and a laugh with Billy, rather liking his new title.

_Heh, you would too, knucklehead_, Hank thought fondly. He traded a handshake-turned-hug with his foster father as well, all the contract either needed to seal the new employment.

Fenris snickered, sounding almost like a cough coming from the lupine Dog Boy. He leaned in close to Jonathan. "So, Cool J . . . I heard you call Boss-man here something earlier this afternoon. What was that again?"

Hank scowled at him, knowing the Dog Boy's memory was as good as his hearing. "Drop it, Wolfie, or I tell him _your_ nickname."

"Or better yet," Jack put in with a laugh, "we get you drunk and let you prove it yourself."

Fenris turned to the pilot with a growl that rumbled up from low in his narrow chest, but any reply he might have given was forgotten at a sudden motion from Jonathan.

The street rat thief was flinching back and down, waving one hand to parry a small, thin something thrown at him from off his left shoulder, glancing down as a playing card landed at his feet. "Whoa! Hey, what's the big idea?"

Hank, too, turned a mild glare on the culprit. "Gambit, what was that for?"

Gambit had been relatively quiet all evening. No surprise, really – as a rule he was the guarded, standoffish, observant type as often as not, especially around new people, plus he and Scraps had been pretty close friends, and Hank knew he blamed himself for not acting quite fast enough. Hank had figured tonight's silence had been due to grief. While it was that, too – Hank knew him well enough to see it in his alien eyes – it was more immediately the fact that he had seen something that had pricked his caution or at least his interest, and he had been waiting for the right moment to act on it.

Gambit shrugged, walking up to retrieve his makeshift missile. "My friend, we all have our secrets, but some keep them better than others. You should be more mindful of your body language."

Jonathan glared at him. "I dunno what you're talkin' about." To Hank's surprise, even Sammy had stiffened up.

"Well, for one, you shouldn't have had the peripheral vision to see that coming." Gambit waved his hand next to Jonathan's head beyond the point his good eye should be able to see it. Jonathan flinched back.

"I . . . wha- . . . oh, heh . . . oops. Yeah, guess ya got me." Jonathan chuckled almost sheepishly, one hand scratching at the back of his head. "Eh, well, if me an' Pops're gonna be hangin' around, I guess you'll see it sooner or later. 'Sides, _you_ trust 'im, right, bro?" Jonathan had turned with hardly a hitch in his breath to shift attention from talking _to_ Gambit to _about_ him, addressing Hank.

Hank grinned, teasing on his turn. "I don't know, bro. I _have_ only known him a fraction as long as you, and probably about as well."

"My gods, Hank, you wound me!" Gambit laughed. "And after all we been through together, too. _How_ many times have I pulled your ass out of the fire?"

"About as many times as you started 'em," Billy piped up, snickering. Gambit gave him "the finger."

"Hey, I seem to remember _you_ were the one unconscious when we first met," Hank chuckled at the same time.

Gambit waved him off. "Details, details . . . "

Hank crossed his arms, looking each of his men in the eye even as he was still chuckling. "All right, you jokers, I'll say this only once. You guys already know I've known these two for almost as long as I've been breathing. They have my complete trust. I hope they'll have yours as well." He turned to look at his "father" and "brother." "That goes for you guys, too, Pops, Jonathan. I been running with some of these guys longer than I care to think about, and not a one of them I don't trust with my life."

"Wrong answer, Chief!" Jack chortled. "Never turn your back on this one. He'll shoot ya!" He pointed at Lucky Eddie, whose seemingly phenomenal good fortune had saved the company more than once but, precisely because of that, would never live down the time a jammed double-barrel shotgun had unjammed at just the right time and angle to make life miserable for Hank, Jack and three others of their company for about a week until the buckshot wounds had healed.

"Finicky Fate and Mother Nature aside," Hank groaned, rubbing the previously-offended hip and buttcheek even as Eddie whacked his pilot friend upside the head with his empty dinner plate. Ignoring them, Hank refocused. "Really, though, banter and bullshit aside, you can trust these guys."

In spite of assurances, Jonathan hesitated a long moment before shrugging as nonchalantly as he could manage. He pulled off the eye patch.

Hank choked. "Holy shit . . . " he breathed.

"Crap," Fenris muttered, "that looks just like – "

"I know." Hank swallowed, not wanting to believe what he was seeing.

8 8 8 8 8

Cool J looked back and forth between Hank and the Dog Boy, glancing too at the rest of the group as they slowly gathered for peeks of their own. Self-conscious, he touched the gold embedded in the skin, fingertips brushing the stylized eye design molded thickly off the surface of the sphere within, which completely filled the eye socket. He could not close that eye anymore, suspecting the lids to have gotten folded under when the object invaded his skull. To this day, he shuddered to think too much about what had become of the original organ, remembering only the agony and the amount of blood running down his face . . .

Angel, one of only two women in the present company and a damned good pilot from what Cool J had been told, cocked her head, a wry grin tugging at her lips. Cool J remembered her being one of the few still standing at the end of the bar fight. "Didn't know you could get cybernetics in gold plating these days."

Cool J shook his head. "I dunno either, but this ain't cybernetic. S'not bionic, either. T'be honest, I'm not sure _what_ it is. Magic'a _some_ kind." He chose to keep to himself the fact that he could hear surface thoughts and even get images and impressions from the minds of those around him if he concentrated on doing so, though too much of that gave him a headache and left him feeling weak and exhausted. Magic items took energy to operate, and he was no spellcaster to have a lot of innate mystic energy to be spending too freely. In fact, before acquiring the golden eyeball, he would not have suspected himself of having any at all.

Benjamin gazed at him askance. "You had that implanted, and you don't even know what it is?"

Cool J grimaced. "I didn't 'have it implanted.' Damn thing implanted itself." Of course, it might have had something to do with the tripping fall he had taken when he stole it, dropping it so that it hit the ground close to his head, but that did not explain how it actually wound up in his skull. He had blacked out for just a moment when he fell.

Gambit held out his hand for the eye patch. "May I?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure."

Gambit turned it back and forth, holding it up to gaze at from eye level. "Interesting. I think I've heard of this kind of material – looks like a mirror from one side but see-through from the other."

"Yep, sure is. And ain't cheap, lemme tell ya!" Cool J accepted the patch, slipping it back in place to conceal the valuable "implant." He turned to Hank with a grin, meeting warm brown eyes under a brunette crewcut. "So anyway, bro, you was offerin' me an' Pops some employment."

8 8 8 8 8

Hank could hardly help but gape a moment longer, but finally he shook himself. "My mistake," he laughed, if a little forced, his mind still tripping over the undeniable similarity to . . . He shook his head. _Deal with that later_. "Yeah. Eddie, cough me up some of those extra sleeping bags we picked up in El Dorado, will you? Put one for Jonathan in the tent with Jack and Tinder, and Pops's in with you and Benjamin." He looked again at Jonathan and Sammy, his eyes meeting the latter's for a significant span of breaths. "Grab any valuables, and I'll show you where you can put them if you want." Sammy cocked his head, then nodded.

Hank led them into the new hover tank, into which they had relocated the "treasure chest." It was a large footlocker with a wizard's lock on it, keyed only to Hank and Benjamin, who had ensorcelled it. He saw both raise eyebrows in question at the small hard plastic box sitting atop it, which read in crude painted letters, "Haz-Mat Retrieval Kit." It certainly was not built to store or dispose of hazardous materials. Hank rolled his eyes. "Don't ask." He turned to Sammy. "Pops, you still have that family heirloom thing you used to keep in your bedroom?" He suppressed a small grin at the memory – Jon-Jon had pulled him into his father's room when they were children to show him the "cool gold key" he had found a few days before, only for them both nearly to get the beatings of their lives when Sammy came in just in time to hear them finalizing the plan to hock it for spending money.

Sammy gazed back up at him, deep amethyst eyes contemplating. Then, he leaned down, kicked off a boot, and pulled up the pant leg to reveal a stylized key of wrought gold, some ten to twelve inches in length, strapped to the inside of his calf. "I've managed to hang on to it."

Hank nodded. "If you want, we can hold it in the chest. I keep the company's mutual funds and other important valuables in here. I trust my men, but that doesn't mean that we don't see our share of pickpockets and worse, both in town and out in the wilderness. Most all of us have _something_ in this trunk."

"What'd keep the trunk from gettin' swiped?" Jonathan wanted to know.

"A modified Carpet of Adhesion spell that Benjamin recasts as needed. Only way this trunk's getting stolen from where it's sitting is to cut the floor from under it." He looked again at Sammy. "You don't have to, of course, but it's an option."

Sammy shrugged. "Thing's always been uncomfortable." He pulled open the straps around his lower leg that held the key in place as Hank set his hand to the lock, "thinking" it open. Hank pulled a sack from the collection of boxes and bags, and Sammy dropped his key within. It tapped something as it settled, a muffled ring of metal-on-metal meeting their ears.

Hank stiffened slightly as an odd sensation coursed through him at that, faint but distinct – a welcoming re-acquaintance, much like he had felt upon first laying eyes on his adopted father after so many years and suspected he might have felt with Jonathan if he had not been in the heat of a brawl just then. Only this was more, something much deeper. He looked up to see that Sammy must have felt something as well, and Jonathan had pulled up the patch to rub at his fake eye. Hank groaned. _Knew I shoulda tried dumping that cursed thing off in Dante's_.

Hank put the sack down in the trunk, the sound of small chains jingling a bit inside with the movement, and he shifted both hands to the trunk lid to close it, but Jonathan 's quick hand darted in to snatch the bag before he could do so. "Hey! Jon-Jon!"

"C'mon, Hanky, I _know_ you felt that too! Whatcha got in here?" He pulled open the bag . . . and froze in shock.

Hank knew what it was that Jonathan saw – the decorated fulcrum. With a sigh, he took the sack from Jonathan's limp fingers, reached in and lifted the surprisingly lightweight artifact into view, setting it on the ground between them. It was a solid gold weighing scale, the fulcrum a sphere with an eye design on each side that precisely matched the one under Jonathan's patch. The questions hung unspoken in the air for several heartbeats before Hank finally went ahead and answered them, gazing at the unwanted thing. "About a year ago, we were paid by a guy from the Pecos Empire for a job we ran for them. He paid us in gems, precious metals, and a handful of other stuff instead of cred chips – harder to trace. This was in the pile. No one else claimed it, so I threw it in here to try to sell later. I've yet to find a buyer. _No_ one wants it. I don't want it, either . . . but I can't seem to get rid of it. Hell, I can't _lose_ the damned thing to save my life! Believe me, I've tried."

"Do you suppose it's cursed, Henry?"

Hank glanced at Pops and shook his head. "Not that anyone can determine, though I have to wonder. It does seem to be attuned to me, though. God only knows why. I've had it read by three different spellcasters, including one from the Federation of Magic and one up in Lazlo. It's definitely a magic artifact, harbors a sense of evil deep within but has no sentience of its own nor a possessing entity, and – " Hank pulled a face. " – and turns up back in my tent or vehicle or something no matter what cliff I drop it over."

"Bummer," Jonathan murmured.

"You're telling me." Hank pulled a breath, putting the scale in the sack and replacing it in the trunk. "Come on. It's getting kinda late, and we need to get an early start. I want to be back up in Tolkeen in two weeks, and we have some stops to make on the way."

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks!


	11. Chapter 11 Common Ties

Shorter Disclaimer –"Yu-Gi-Oh!" and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Takahashi Kazuki and any other related owners/distributors/producers. "Rifts: Role-Playing Game," "Nightspawn/Nightbane: Role-Playing Game," and all related characters, events, and concepts belong to Palladium Books Publishing and related entities. I get no monetary benefit from this. My benefit is the enjoyment of dealing with beloved characters.

"Between the Shadows"  
by DragonDancer5150

Chapter 11 – Common Ties

Pur-n'kln padded up to a tree and reared onto his hind legs, arms reaching high above his head. Sickle-curved claws scratched shallow furrows into the bark as the feline enjoyed a very long, leisurely stretch, wings extending so that the tips touched the ground behind him, tail stuck straight out but for a little curl at the end.

Yami watched him, feeling a bit ornery. He leaned over on the bench and lightly poked an ethereal finger into the fur and flesh of the other's ribs. His companion shivered with a sharp squeak and dropped back to all fours, sitting on his haunches and looking up with a tilt of his head and sheepish tuck of the chin, ears folded partway back. Yami chuckled softly. "Sorry, Purn."

Pur-n'kln shook his head, the Talisman of Tongues around his neck swaying slightly with the motion. "Oh, do not be. It is just that . . . your touch . . . I am still not completely accustomed to it." A shy smile danced in emerald cat eyes.

_Which is what makes doing that so amusing_, Yami thought with a silent laugh, hand absently flexing and clenching, fingers rubbing to work out the sensation in the one tip. _Even if it's odd for me as well_. Normally, Yami could not stand the uncomfortable feeling of something solid invading his energy pattern. He did not pass through things or people, nor let them pass into him, unless it was necessary. He had tried to describe the sensation to Donovan once, who likened it to the teeth-gritting "pressure" one would get from the energy fields of holding two magnets in hand and trying to force them together negative-pole to negative-pole. Yami did not have the luxury of a physical body with which to test the effects of a magnetic field and could only concede that it might feel rather similar. Still, he could tolerate the sensation if he had to – or chose to, such as to tease his companion.

He sat back against the bench and let his gaze wander down the length of the arboretum as Pur-n'kln settled on his stomach at Yami's feet. Yami shook his head, resisting the urge to reach down and scratch behind inviting cat ears . . . and trying to ignore the sight of the whiplashes interrupting the bloodied coat of fur under folded wings. He had grown accustomed to the sight of the terrible wounds, but they grieved him all the same. He knew that, while Pur-n'kln had long learned to deal with them and hardly noticed them anymore unless he moved just wrong – he could even fly despite the tears in the wing leathers – in truth, they still hurt as if freshly inflicted. Yami himself knew the punishing burn of whipfire all too well, and wished there were something he could do for his friend.

His "friend." Yami thought about that for a moment. Yes, it was true. Perhaps it was born of a desperate need for friends. Yami still missed Donovan terribly, even more than a month later. How could he not? Donovan had been his only friend, and for over twenty years. The Dee-Bee had taught him the most about this new world, far more than the immediate necessities with which Anghrist usually favored him before any given mission: about ley lines, monsters and magic, about Atlantis, the Coalition States, the Federation of Magic, the Xiticix, the New German Republic, the Vampire Kingdoms, the Gargoyle Empire, and so much more. Donovan also had seen to Yugi's physical needs with such care, and truly had grieved at Yami's situation, doing what little he could to ease his friend's suffering.

No. At first, perhaps, any feelings of kinship with Pur-n'kln might have been more out of a rebound from the loss of Donovan than from anything sincere, but Yami knew that it was more than that now. Pur-n'kln was an individual who shared his experiences, who suffered a similar fate. Unlike the rest of the company, Pur-n'kln was a slave too, with all the same expectations, limitations, and threats of punishment for even the slightest failure. He was also a surprisingly kind soul, good-natured in spite of all the horrors he had seen and suffered in his life. And from what Yami understood, they had been many. Still, he had proven an honorable, trustworthy, and capable ally, and he took care of Yugi with a level of attention that rivaled Donovan's. That, if nothing else, Yami could not ignore.

Yami glanced sideways, opposite the tree. Yugi – his body, at any rate – sat next to him on the bench, staring at . . . what, Yami could not fathom. Likely nothing. _So why does it feel like there should be more awareness there?_ he thought. Over the past few weeks, Yami got the feeling of something faintly amiss every time he looked at Yugi, like there was something different, something that had changed, but he could not place it. His _aibou_'s movements were just as slow and mindless, the gaze just as empty. Yami suffered from nightmares of one kind or another almost every time he slept, always had, even back centuries ago in Japan. Some were pure fabrications of his subconscious psyche. Many were memories from his present "life," his slavery to Anghrist and the things he had seen and suffered. A number were from before, during the time of Duels and Shadow Games, of Bakura's Ring-spirit, Malik, and the God Cards, the time of family like Yugi's mother and grandfather, and of dear friends: Jonouchi, Anzu, Honda, Bakura Ryou, Kaiba and his brother, and so many more. Even the dreams from those pleasant memories invariably turned into nightmares as he would fail in his fights, his opponents winning the Duels and other Shadow Games and destroying everything he held dear, while he was left powerless to protect his loved ones. And with the incident in that unknown summoning chamber, a few of those nightmares had taken on some new angles . . .

Lately, however, there were some times when he did not suffer from the nightmares that reminded him of how he had failed his friends and his _aibou_. He did not remember any dream at all, but on those occasions he awoke with Yugi's bright laughter ringing in his ears, and the impression of his _aibou_'s eyes before his, dancing with life, encouragement and hope. His own eyes filled with tears now as he studied the silent, listless body beside him.

He flinched a bit, startled, as Pur-n'kln shifted just then, wings fluttering a little and tail-tip thumping the ground in a slow but restless rhythm. The spirit had all but forgotten his partner's presence. Yami grimaced at that term, but there really was no other way to describe him. Yugi was Yami's "partner" in terms of what Fate had meant for them to be to each other, how they had been given to each other to help one another in their lives' journeys. _Heh, "life" being a relative term in my case, of course_. However, as he gazed down at the felinoid at his feet, he could not deny that he truly had a "partner" now in this present existence as well, at least for as long as Anghrist continued to lease Pur-n'kln from his Atlantean masters. He hoped that was quite a long time. In addition to the friendship the two had developed in the past few weeks, Yami had never known anyone, in this present existence nor the previous one, who could match and compliment Yami's powers with abilities of his own. Only the spirit of the Millennium Ring might have been able to do that in the past, but that one, Yami knew, would all but face annihilation before he would agree to work with his declared arch-enemy. Pur-n'kln, on the other hand, had a set of trained skills and mystical powers he used freely to blend with anything Yami did. And in addition to the magics he claimed his masters had given him, he was a capable thief, spy and assassin, as well as a kick-ass fighter when he knew that he was allowed to fight at all.

Yami paused, a little surprised at himself. _"Kick ass"?_ He shook his head with a suppressed chuckle at himself for using a phrase he had long come to associate with his old friend. _Gods, Donovan, I miss you_.

The sound of Yami's chortle made Pur-n'kln's ears perk and swivel in his direction, and the felinoid sat back up on his haunches to look at him. Yami gave him a wry grin. "Sorry, did I derail your train of thought, there?" He swallowed a mock-groan at himself. That was another strange phrase he had learned from Donovan. In fact, he had been finding himself using a lot of "Donovan-isms" lately.

As was the case more often than not, Pur-n'kln seemed completely oblivious to any subtle humor in Yami's choice of words, merely shaking his head. "Not really, no." He tilted his head, ears laying back a bit. "May I ask you about something, though?"

Yami did chuckle aloud at that, amused in spite of himself. "Purn, how many times do I have to tell you that you don't need permission to talk to me about something not directly related to a current assignment?" _And when did you become "Purn" to me, anyway? So informal and familiar, so _endearing_, to call one by a nickname . . ._

Pur-n'kln's chin tucked, ears lying a bit flatter. This time, however, he did snicker softly at himself. "Ah, apparently as many times as you have plus once, at least."

Yami chuckled again. "Apparently. What's on your mind?"

"Well . . . I . . . I have been thinking . . . about our partnership and assignments, and what Master Anghrist must be paying for my rental."

Yami scowled, the words escaping him before he could stop them. "Don't, Purn. Don't put it that way." Pur-n'kln's ears had relaxed and begun to shift forward, but they laid back again at that as he flinched from the admonishment. Yami felt bad that he elicited such a reaction from his friend but, exactly because of that friendship, he would not back down on his point. "_Things_ are 'rented,' Purn. You are _not_ a piece of equipment."

Pur-n'kln's gaze had dropped. "Yes, sir."

Yami sighed. He no longer bothered to correct the use of "sir" to a fellow slave as he had early on, having learned enough of his partner's psyche to know it would never truly do any good. Pur-n'kln allowed himself to be more informal and familiar with Yami most of the time because that was what Yami desired but, in the creature's mind, all other beings were above him in station, even other slaves. In his mind, he really was no better than a thing, a tool for others' use, just as he had stated that first day. No matter how they had discussed it, no matter how Yami had tried to get him to see himself otherwise, it was as though Pur-n'kln simply could not, like there was some sort of psychological lock on his thought patterns.

_"I assure you this one will give you no such trouble. He has been through specialized training procedures and implanted with certain safeguards to ensure his functionality without defect."_

Yami recalled that High Lord's words, a scowl twisting his features at the memory. He had wondered back then if Pur-n'kln were a mechanical with some kind of central processing unit coded to follow rules and reject input that went against its programming. Yami knew now that his partner was indeed a living entity and guessed that whatever bound his thoughts was psionic or magical in nature. _Hn, another thing we seem to share_, Yami realized with a soft snort, thinking of his own sealed mind. His grimace deepened as he wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to lead Pur-n'kln's masters to do such a thing to their slave.

Then again, he thought maybe he did know.

Perhaps it was to help keep Yami's mind from stagnating in solitary confinement, but Anghrist called his slave out of the Millennium Puzzle for at least a few hours every day. Yami had long been allowed to roam as he pleased if his master did not have some task or assignment for him, so long as he did not cause any trouble with the rest of the company. Over the decades, Yami had explored every corner of the sprawling complex many times over, but rarely enjoyed the presence and companionship of any of the people around him except Donovan was not busy. The Dee-Bee not only had volunteered to care for the human vessel of his team's ghostly recon scout, but had gone out of his way to obtain permission from his employer to closely befriend and spend time with Yami, educating him a little on the world and giving him the companionship he so desperately needed. By then, Yami had earned a few privileges, such as roaming, after proving that he had properly "learned his place." Anghrist had not had to punish him for rebellious disobedience or escape attempts for almost a year. Yami had enjoyed hours talking with Donovan about anything and everything and, to this day, cherished the memory of those times.

With Donovan gone, Yami was still allowed to move about and socialize with his partner in off-duty times like this one, and he and Pur-n'kln had traded stories of their lives and experiences. Pur-n'kln, too, had once been willful and rebellious, back when he was still fully human. One escape attempt too many, accompanied by a distraction scheme designed to leave as much chaos in his wake as was possible, had proven his undoing. The whole plan had backfired with disastrous results, and he was captured before reaching the rendezvous point with those who were to help him get off Atlantis. He had gained his "beast form" during the punishment of a Bio-Wizard transmutation chamber, a tank filled with thick, green, magic fluid designed to heal and enhance, transform, or simply torture with agonizing deformity. The transfigurement brought with it strange, mystical powers that his masters claimed to have built into the torturous mutation. He had survived their experiment and proved to be a great asset in the powers he had gained. Yami wondered if part of the experiment included the psychological seals he guessed to be present in his friend's mind. He also wondered how the Splugorth had managed to embed their slave with powers that seemed to derive from the very Shadows he himself wielded . . .

Yami shook himself as he realized that he had allowed his mind to wander. He refocused on Pur-n'kln, noting that his friend had not moved, his head still bowed in submission. Yami ran a hand over his face with a soft sigh. He still had not learned to anticipate Pur-n'kln's frozen silences, having to recall anew each time it happened that his partner would not move nor speak again until given permission any time he felt he had done something wrong. Yami leaned forward, reaching out to pet gently at the fur behind the ram horns. He felt Pur-n'kln flinch at the touch, which for Yami was all the more reason for him to do so. Yami had learned firsthand the value of touch contact that did not involve pain, and knew that Pur-n'kln had discovered, to his surprise and pleasure, that he loved to be petted like a normal cat. "I'm sorry, Pur-n'kln," Yami murmured, his tone soft. "I didn't mean to snap at you. It's just that you know I don't like that you think so little of yourself."

Pur-n'kln allowed a small, tentative nod as he dared to glance up and meet Yami's eyes for an instant, his voice equally soft. "Yes, I-I do know. Thank you."

A sad grin touched Yami's lips before he let the matter pass. "Anyway, you were saying?"

Pur-n'kln relaxed a little more, though he did not meet Yami's gaze again right away. "I can guess well enough what Master Anghrist must be paying Master Splynncryth for my . . . that is, for me to be here. It's quite a large amount, and the rate is per day. And yet, the missions for which he retains me so far are both infrequent and have me operating well below my full capability. Yours, too, for that matter, if I may say it. And if all he wants me for are these assignments, why does he retain me during the times in between as well? It would be far more economical for him to fetch me as needed, as I do know that one of the regular destinations programmed into some of the transport chambers here is a teleportation room in the Great Pyramid in the city of Splynn. It is easy enough to reach me that way." He shrugged. "My only duty in the meantime, really, is to care for Master Mutou, which I do gladly but, for Master Anghrist, it would be far cheaper to have one of his own men do it." He looked up once more at that, his tone sincere. "Again, not that I mind at all . . . nor that I mind your company."

Yami smiled. "And I enjoy yours as well, very much. You're right, though, and I've thought about that myself, in regards to both of us. I have to wonder if it has anything to do with our similar energies."

"What you call 'the shadows,' yes," Pur-n'kln put in with a nod. "We do seem to wield much the same power, if not in the same manner. I can enter and travel through both normal and mystical shadows, fire blasts of dark energy or call down lightning bolts of it, blur the motion of my body into multiple afterimages, create a sizable pocket of subspace for storage and transport . . . things such as these, while you can cover an area in a cloud of shadows, create a shield and even a sword of solidified shadows, see into and across shadows . . . and that is to say nothing of what you can do with those cards from which you summon your creatures."

"The Shadows, yes. Before meeting you, I have only known a handful able to touch the Shadows in any way, and usually only to affect the outcomes of the Duels of old, as I have told you. There are only three I have seen instigate Shadow Games as I do, and all three of those could do so only because they had artifacts like mine." Yami's hand went to his stomach out of reflex, but his manifestation of the Millennium Puzzle was not there. Only when Yugi wore the real artifact did Yami reflect it with one from his own subconscious.

"The Millennium Items. And those three were Shadi, Bakura Ryou – or rather the malicious spirit that often controlled him – and Malik Ishtahl. These individuals bore the Millennium Key and Millennium Scales, the Millennium Ring, and the Millennium Rod, respectively."

Yami gazed back at his friend. Pur-n'kln's ability to retain and process information never ceased to astound him. "Yes, those."

"Whereas what I do is not focused through any suchartifact." Pur-n'kln's slitted cat eyes shifted to regard Yugi. "And he feels as though he could wield them as well, were he only able to try, and that without bearing your Puzzle, which Master Anghrist currently has in his study a few hundred feet from here. The feeling I have about Master Mutou and the shadows is just as strong even with that separation."

"Probably because he has been bound to _me_ for so long, and has wielded along with me in the past."

"Perhaps . . . "

Though the felinoid would never dare to do so outright, Yami knew from the tone that Pur-n'kln disagreed, at least in part. Yami could guess what it was that his friend was thinking. Pur-n'kln felt a kinship with Yugi he could not explain, as though something specific to Yugi himself drew the felinoid's attention to him and, within a range of some six hundred feet, Pur-n'kln could pinpoint Yugi's exact location through that sensation alone. Yugi, too, reacted to Pur-n'kln's presence in small ways, which he had never done with anyone else, except occasionally with Yami, as though something in his instinctual subconscious recognized something about Pur-n'kln. Yami found that disturbing and could only be glad that Pur-n'kln was the friend that he was. He hated the thought that Yugi would be drawn in some way to someone or something that would threaten him. Pur-n'kln was no threat. Yami had made sure of it shortly after recognizing the seeming connection between him and Yugi by daring to instigate a minor Shadow Game, seeking to test his new partner's heart. Of course, Anghrist had discovered the unauthorized action and punished his slave for the disobedience, but Yami had to be sure. Pur-n'kln had proven to have a good heart, which meant that Yami was the loser of that Game, and he had endured the Penalty Game that the Shadows inflicted upon him without complaint, justified by the reassurance that he could trust his new partner.

When they first met, Pur-n'kln had asked Yami if Yugi had been altered as he had. From what little Pur-n'kln had described of the transmutation chamber, Yami could only pray that his _aibou_ had not suffered the same, but he had to wonder. The two of them had slept for several centuries before being recalled from that subspace that had held them. What if Yugi had been pulled out at some point before that and Yami just did not remember or know? Was it possible that Anghrist had experimented on his other heart as Splynncryth's minions had experimented on Pur-n'kln? As much as Yami loathed the thought of his beloved _aibou_ having been tortured by such a process, he could not ignore the fact that Yugi had not aged just as Pur-n'kln had not, and that he healed as rapidly as Pur-n'kln did. There definitely existed a very real probability of shared fates through the common ties of knowledge, interests, and business dealings that Yami's and Yugi's master shared with the vile ruler of Atlantis, whose race was renown for such sadistic practices as Bio-Wizardry, the magic – one might call it "science" – of genetic enhancement, manipulation and enslavement by means of magical transformation and surgical augmentation through parasites, symbiotes and the implantation of limbs and other living components. The predatory monstrosities known as Conservators, such as the three that had accompanied Pur-n'kln's arrival more than a month ago, were prime examples of the kinds of "bio-borgs" – biological cyborgs – that were the specialty of Bio-Wizards.

But, if that were the case, then why did Conservators or any other bio-borgs not wield the Shadows as well, nor Pur-n'kln feel the same kinship with them that he sensed from Yugi? No, there had to be more to the story, pieces of the puzzle that he and Pur-n'kln had yet to uncover.

"Anghrist may have had Aibou experimented on and altered as Splynncryth did to you," Yami mused, "but what made you and Aibou different from any other poor victim of their tortures?"

"Perhaps the experimental aspect of the process involved the incorporation of the living Shadows?"

Yami nodded, having come to the same conclusion. "But . . . all right, back up. That brings us back to the point of why Anghrist is retaining you even between missions, or has . . . has _hired_ you in the first place." Yami refused to call it "rent" under any circumstances.

"You needed a partner."

"I _had_ a partner." Yami groaned, planting his face into one hand. That comment had sprung from him by reflex. "Sorry. But still . . . Hn, perhaps there is something about you, specifically, that Anghrist wants, but he doesn't know when he'll need to employ it."

"That could be. What, though, I wonder."

"What, indeed. It may or may not be something that Aibou holds as well, considering the apparent similarities between you two, but to make use of that, Anghrist would have to reunite Aibou's body and soul, and to do that would lose him one of the most compelling means by which he manipulates and controls _me_. And for that matter, he's been allowing me to be out for far longer stretches than he ever has, except for on assignments. With my binding to the Millennium Puzzle, I can be out for ten-hour stretches at a time before I must return to it for at least an hour and a half to recover."

"What you call your 'house arrest'." A glimmer of amusement shone in Pur-n'kln's eyes.

Yami chuckled in spite of himself. "What Donovan once dubbed it, yes." He pulled a breath, thinking. "Whatever it is he wants from you, and the true reason he holds me, perhaps is not for these missions he has us running but something else entirely. Perhaps he's just using us for 'other things' in the meantime, preparing for his true goal to manifest somehow. And I wonder if it is deliberate that he allows us to spend as much time together as he does."

Pur-n'kln's head tilted, ears twitching, as he considered that. "You and I wield the same energies, though in very different ways, and neither of us has ever known another who can wield as the other does, and now here we are brought together . . . why?" His brow furrowed under blue-black fur.

"And why now? You are older than the length of time that Aibou and I have been here. Has he been waiting for something?"

"As you know, until about three years ago I had been in the New German Republic and the Gargoyle Empire on an assignment that took thirty years to set in motion and fully complete."

"And we've been here for over forty, but it was some fifteen from our . . . 'arrival' before Anghrist – " Yami stopped himself. _Considered me sufficiently "broken" and house-trained_. There was no way Yami would voice that shameful opinion willingly, but he could not deny that it was Anghrist's own wording . . . nor that it was true, in essence. Yami had tested his bonds every way he could imagine, and had failed at every turn, blocked by his master's greater cunning and power, and viciously punished or at the very least disgraced and humiliated each time, enough so that Yami had finally stopped trying. Not that he did not keep an eye out for opportunities to try again, but he knew that such chances would have to come from outside sources, from someone outside of himself, and he would not ask for help, not knowing the tortures that would await not only him but his would-be accomplice should they fail. He could not bring himself to ask that of another.

Pur-n'kln had been waiting patiently for him to finish his thought, watching the expressions that Yami knew had to have crossed his face. He swallowed, unable to meet his friend's eyes for a moment. "A-anghrist . . . would not have been ready for you to start working with me until after you were already on assignment," he concluded in a subdued voice.

Pur-n'kln hesitated another moment, empathy shining in his eyes as he regarded Yami. At length, he nodded. "Master would not have begun my rent before he needed or wanted me, but if he was _only_ waiting for me to finish with my last assignment for Master Splynncryth, he would not have waited another three years, which would seem to mean that there is indeed a timetable in effect for Master's plans as well as the possible blending of our powers." His eyes widened a little as a thought seemed to occur to him. "Energies blend all the more easily and fully when the wielders are well familiar with one another and able to cooperate and read each other, both in action during the wielding itself and in terms of personality, that the individuals themselves are well-known to one another. Perhaps that is why he keeps us together so much even when we are not actively working together on an assignment."

Yami nodded, gaze falling to the grass at his feet as a thoughtful frown creased his forehead. "You may well be onto something, Purn." He looked up again suddenly, his words heartfelt even through the sheepish grin he gave. "I hope that doesn't mean you'll stop spending time with me, just to spite Anghrist."

Pur-n'kln shook his head solemnly. "I cannot defy my master, nor disobey any he sets over me, and Master Anghrist did specify that I am not to leave your side without his express permission." A small grin tugged at his lips as he added, "Which I suppose means that you are 'stuck' with me, Yami."

Yami chuckled. "No complaints, my friend. No complaints at all. Seriously, though . . . thank you. For what you do for Aibou and for me."

"It is truly my pleasure, Yami. I am happy to work with and serve you both."

Yami started to respond to the comment of being "served," but motion out of the left corner of his sight chased the thought from his mind.

Pur-n'kln chuckled, his tone rather fond. "Oops, I think we have kept Master Mutou out for too long."

"I think so," Yami agreed with a laugh. Yugi had slumped over sideways on the bench, curling up to sleep.

Pur-n'kln moved to reach for him. "Shall we get him back to his room?"

"No, we'll let him sleep here, at least until I have to withdraw again. The fresh air will do him good." Well . . . as fresh as one could get from what was recycled throughout a completely submerged complex. Yami himself did not have to breathe, but he understood that the plant-filled arboretum itself went a long way in keeping the air from stagnating. "Do you still have that spare blanket in your subspace Shadow pocket?"

"Yes, sir." Pur-n'kln raised a hand, tracing a claw in a slow line downward through the air as though tearing a cloth. Shadows trailed the gesture, then separated like the edges of a deep cut parting, and Yami could see purple-black Shadows twisting across the surface of the new spatial rift. Pur-n'kln reached in, his hand and forearm disappearing deep into his personal dimensional pocket before withdrawing again, clutching a neatly-folded, light thermal blanket.

"Oh, good. Roll that up for a – " But Yami need not have clarified, as Pur-n'kln had already bundled the cloth and started to tuck it under Yugi's head as a pillow. "Thanks, Purn." When Pur-n'kln had first revealed this particular power, Yami had to admit to having considered asking for his help then to steal Yami's three "treasures" – Yugi's body, the Puzzle stand with Puzzle and dish of soul-bearing mercury, and the steel box with his Deck – but Pur-n'kln unwittingly staved off the request before being made when he revealed that no living matter could be completely contained within. Pur-n'kln could reach in to retrieve things, his hand being living flesh, but if he placed something living and tried to close the pocket, whatever he put in would be pushed back out as the pocket collapsed. On some level, Yami was almost glad for that, as it saved him from the moral dilemma of asking for his friend's help, knowing the punishment if they were caught, or succumbing to the cowardice of _not_ asking.

"Actually . . . a nap sounds like a wonderful idea," Pur-n'kln murmured as he waved his hand to close the small, Shadow-borne tear in space. He dropped to all fours, then rocked back on his haunches for a long stretch before settling at Yami's feet once more.

Yami grinned. "You do that, Purn." Though he had never said as much, Yami liked being active sometimes while his friend slept. Pur-n'kln suffered from almost constant nightmares as well, but they seemed to be lessened, even dispelled, when there was a friendly hand to comfort against them with a soft pet to the head, shoulder, haunch, even along a wing limb, anywhere that avoided the whiplashes and kept from reminding the felinoid's mind of the reason for the nightmares to begin with. Yami was glad to be able to offer that comfort. He only wished there was a way for someone to do that for him . . . as Yugi once had done.

Yami laid a hand on his _aibou_'s ankle and settled back, enjoying the peace of the arboretum, letting himself forget for a moment the cares and horrors that lay beyond. He would deal with them again soon enough.

* * *

Author's Note: Please be sure to check my bio page for any updates, etc. Thanks! 


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